What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas
by bluesybelge
Summary: The Chief and his team are invited to attend a crime fighters convention in Las Vegas. It was written in advance that the Chief would do anything but assist at the lectures from his distinguished collegues.
1. Prologue

_Las Vegas was to be hosting a two day conference for special investigation teams from the north western United States. In the past the invitation to attend these conferences had always been addressed solely to the heads of department. However times were changing and it seemed indicated to involve other members as well. Invited, the Chief and his team headed for Vegas._

** "What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."**

_Prologue._

"It's all of us or I don't go either. It's as simple as that Dennis." At the tone of his voice it was crystal clear that Chief Robert T. Ironside wasn't planning to back down.

"Somebody should stay put in the office. You know… just in case," the Commissioner tried to bargain.

"Just in case of what? You have the whole damned San Francisco police corps waiting down there. It's not as if I was taking them all with me. It's just me, Ed, Eve and of course Mark. Three days, Dennis." Ironside stretched out, sticking up three fingers.

"I'm pretty sure you can survive that. Well … yes or no, Dennis? What is it gonna be?" Ironside pushed on.

The Commissioner hated it when Ironside did that. He never could think clear under pressure and he also knew that Ironside eagerly used this weakness to his advantage. "Three days, huh…?"

"That's what I said. Three days." Ironside confirmed; a little glow of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Well, alright. But … don't you make me regret it, Bob," the Commissioner sighed as he leaned back in his leather chair behind his desk.

"When did I ever let you down? And you know where to find us. Last thing I heard they do have telephone in Vegas." The Chief continued making fun of the Commissioner.

"You sure are good humored, Bob. Tell me. Are you up to something? Maybe … a date?" Randal added looking over his glasses, observing the Chief.

This remark was unexpected and didn't miss it's goal for it had the Chief looking surprised at the Commissioner. Randal flashed a smirk. Got you.

"I'll send you a postcard." Ironside added as he turned his wheelchair around.

"Three days, Bob!" was the last thing he heard Randall shout before the door closed behind him.

"I wonder why he wants us to go along?" Ed asked a rather busy Eve.

"Don't you fancy a little trip to Vegas?" she answered without looking up. She was packing for the Chief.

Ed kept on watching her. "It's only a short trip you know. Didn't he tell you? Three days max. He won't need all that stuff."

"Well ..., you know that packing needs a woman's touch," Eve replied while checking she hadn't left out anything important to the Chief.

"Maybe he won't even need it. The Commissioner hasn't accepted yet, especially since the Chief wants us both along. I still wond..."

"The Commissioner has accepted." Ed was cut short by Ironside who, entering his office, overheard Ed's doubts about all four of them leaving for Vegas.

'You order the tickets, Ed. See if you can get us a flight for tomorrow afternoon. That will leave us plenty of time to get settled and ..., maybe also ..., enjoy Vegas by night," he suggested with laughing eyes. "The conference is scheduled for the next day. So, let's take some time to enjoy ourselves. How about it? I hear no objections. That means, yes, Chief. We're absolutely delighted, Chief ...., Good.... ! I didn't expect anything less than these enthusiastic reactions."

Ed and Eve looked at each other and smiled. They knew this was coming. It really was his style.

He sometimes directed their lives like a father would. They didn't complain, they just accepted it, meaning that in the end they not necessarily disliked it.


	2. Chapter 1

_Chapter 1_

"It's Pete, Mr. Bertini. He says you're expecting him."

"Yeah, yeah, send him in Toby!"

Pete looked up at the burly guy who had opened the door. He knew Mr. Bertini always had his gorillas hanging around. He should be accustomed to it by now. Yet every time one of those goons opened the door Pete stared right at a large muscular chest and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

This one was called Toby. A long time ago, in rural Louisiana, when his life was still carefree, Pete had had a friend called Toby. He was two years his senior, his neighbor, and above all his only playmate. God knows what had become of him. He managed a smile as he thought of him. Toby, that shy, skinny youngster. What a difference with the muscle-boy who had just let him in.

Future seemed much brighter then. How in the world did he end up here. Las Vegas: the city of promises, the city of hope and deceit.

All by all he shouldn't complain. He had a job. A good job. It was well paid and most important _he_ was a respected man. Well ... he liked to believe he was.

Pete Goldham from Lydia, Louisiana, the supervising manager and chief of staff at one of Las Vegas's major gambling compounds. Yeah ..., he definitely was an important man, he repeated to himself time and again.

Walking across the gaming room he knew he had the power to make or destroy the people who worked for him. Oh boy …! How he enjoyed that feeling.

Yet when Mr. Bertini send for him, Pete, as soon as he knocked on the man's door, on the upper floor of the complex, became a humble, charming, country boy .

But Mr. Bertini new what a subserviently, false, slimy bastard he really was, and exploited it thankfully to his own benefit.

Delicately holding an expensive Cuban handmade cigar in his right hand Mr. Bertini indicated one of those comfy Italian chairs with his left hand, "Sit down, Pete! Sit down!"

Pete was always so impressed that even this polite invitation sounded more like an order and he obeyed like a little dog.

His awkward behavior coaxed some smiles out of Mr. Bertini's gorillas as they watched the scene from a distance.

"Tell me Pete, how is business down there? I heard we recently had some big punters on the floor."

Mr. Bertini looked inquiringly at him, awaiting some reaction. As Pete hesitated to answer Mr. Bertini insisted with a "Well, Pete? Go on! Fill me in!" and looking towards his handymen, "We also love to hear the crusty details, don't we, boys?" They chuckled.

"What can I say. You know how much I like things to work out smoothly. We didn't have major problems lately and …, I …, I know my staff works very professionally." Pete swallowed, his throat dry with nerves. "They're fine people, Mr. Bertini, really fine people, I can assure you," he humbly stressed out.

"Mmmmmm, I see ..., Well …,va bene, va bene, Pete. I hear. You're again going to keep the best to yourself, you secretive little thing. You're not going to tell us anything, aren't you?" Pete looked away as he felt a timid blush coloring his chubby cheeks.

"Well ... I feel it's better not to harras you with insignificant details." Pete ultimately replied with a small, self sufficient smile; relieved he didn't have to get bogged down in detail.

"Ok! As long as he bring me lots of them nice green bills he's my man. Ain't he guys?" Mr. Bertini said. They chuckled again and Pete shuddered.

"Now! To the point. You know our beloved city will be crawling under plain-clothes policemen for the next three to four days. Some have already arrived this afternoon. The _crème de la crème _ will be turned loose on us. And we prefer they do not stick their noses into our business, don't we my dear Pete? Mr. Bertini said in unmistakable terms, leaning on his desk, his look intimidating.

" You know what to do, Pete." It sounded awfully menacing.

Clearing his throat, Pete assembled all his courage to face Mr. Bertini's piercing look. "Of course, Mr. Bertini, you can count on me as always. You may rest assured, Mr. Bertini. There will be no mishap this time." He shifted uneasily on the edge of his chair. Oh, boy, let this be over with, he thought.

Mr. Bertini motioned Toby to show Pete out. His legs felt like cotton. He shuffled towards the door, gasped for air as soon as he was outside and leaned against the wall to come to his senses.

They had left San Francisco a little over 1pm. The flight, approximately two hours, was smooth and though it was early march the weather in Vegas was mild.

A car awaited them. The Chief had insisted they rent one. "I'll feel more comfortable with it. I'd love to hop in and out of a taxi for once but..., I guess I might have a small problem with that," he had said ironically.

By five pm. they had checked in at their hotel. The Chief had invited his collaborators, his precious friends for supper. He thought it was an excellent moment to thank them for ..., well …, just for being his friends, for having been there for him those past years. He knew he wasn't a man of many words but he was sure they would understand.

Eve volunteered to reserve a table and they agreed to meet around eight pm. It left them plenty of time to get settled.

By the time the Chief and Mark arrived, Ed and Eve were already sipping at martinis.

Seeing them there, Ironside smiled almost unnoticed. He was still thinking about Mark who, as the elevator took them to the ground floor, had warned him not to order chili. Sure, he liked chili. No better. He loved it, but the hotel had a famous reputation for it's French cuisine. Ordering chili now would be real blasphemy.

As they both neared the table Ironside noticed one chair had already conveniently been removed. He wheeled himself into position and ordered a bourbon from the first waiter passing by. Mark joined the others, having a dry martini.

Meanwhile they studied the menu. One after the other couldn't resist letting out an "oooh" or a "mmmm" as they discovered the delights described in a delectable bewitching culinary terminology.

"I'd like to remind you all I'm not the Commissioner, just a plain cop," Ironside stipulated with a wink.

"Don't worry, Chief. The drinks are on me," Ed insisted.

"No, Ed. It's my treat, and I don't accept a no for an answer. Remember who's the boss."

It promised to be a great evening. His friends gathered around him, exquisite food, a lovely wine. Ironside felt he was a lucky man all by all.

They had just been served the main course when ... _ she _appeared.

"Bob Ironside ... , yes... , that must be you! Where are you? The fastest man in the field! Bob Ironside ..., a voice I'd recognize out of a thousand."

Surprised, the Chief, Ed, Eve and Mark, all looked up and then at each other. It was a deep, hoarse, manly voice, although it was definitely a woman. The unmistakable ravages of years of heavy smoking were clearly audible.

"What a voice! Where does that come from?" Ed asked amused.

He hadn't finished his question that the mysterious woman turned around the corner and discovered three surprised, young but unfamiliar, faces staring at her. She didn't know any of them and she caught her breath as she looked upon the large back of the man in the wheelchair.

"Oh ...! I'm so sorry …, my …, mistake ...," she stuttered, " I ..., I ..." and with a last quick glance at the Chief she pivoted on one foot and disappeared as fast as she had walked up to them.

The four friends continued to look at each other and finally burst out laughing, until finally, Eve, Ed and Mark turned their head inquiringly towards the Chief.

"Don't look at me," he said, "I didn't see her face."

"You mean, she didn't give you the time to get a clear look at her," Ed continued laughing.

Eve took a sip from her glass of chardonnay, "Well, maybe she really was mistaken," she suggested, wiping her mouth. "Too much make-up. Clothes that didn't fit her age. Mmm ... absolutely your kind of woman, Chief," she added meditative, holding her chin.

"Looked more like an over-aged hooker to me." Mark finally completed the not very flattering description of the mysterious lady.

The Chief still hadn't said a word and continued listening to his dear friends comments.

"Well, Chief ...? What do you say?" Ed finally asked.

"I don't know yet who she was, but I can tell you all that she does know me. She wasn't mistaken."

"But …, then ... , why did she act the way she did?" Eve asked swiftly.

"Maybe we frightened her," Mark said laconic.

"I scared her off." Ironside sighed calmly.

The others reacted as he had expected. Three pair of unbelieving eyes focusing him.

"That's supposed to be a joke ain't it, Chief?" Ed was unable to conceal some concern.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Think! You all heard her. The ..._ fastest _man …," Ironside said, punctuating the word _fastest, _be it with a little tremble. "Imagine the surprise when she saw me. The shock."

"That's no reason to behave that way," Eve objected vigorously.

"Give her time," Ironside said understandingly, "She'll come back ..., when she's ready to."

He picked up his glass. "Let this unexpected intermezzo not ruin a pleasant meal," he said, smiling at his friends, "Cheers!"

Robert Ironside was glad to see how they spontaneously lifted their glass at his invitation and resumed chatting.

To end the evening Ed and Eve wanted to try their luck in one of the many casinos.

After supper they had all gone up to the Chief's room and Ed tried to convince the Chief and Mark to join them. Ironside however gently declined the invitation with the excuse of some unfinished business still awaiting him. In fact, after what had happened, the unexpected and rather painful referral to happier times, he didn't feel like being trundled around that night.

"Take the car. I won't need it tonight," Ironside had assured them. "Mark and I are going to watch a promising basketball game.

"I remember someone talking about, and I quote: enjoying Vegas by night," Ed joked, "Strange I have his name on the tip of my tongue. Come on Eve help me out. It's a famous San Francisco cop," snapping his fingers, "Something starting with I ..., Iron …,"

"Nice try, Ed. I appreciate. But no, thanks! Mark! Why don't you join them? Go on, Mark! Have fun," he encouraged his aide. "Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine. A good basketball game, a glass of bourbon. What more can a man ask for?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Chief, but you're not gonna enjoy it all by yourself. You'll have to put up with me." Mark reacted resolute.

"Seems these two gentlemen prefer football to my charming company." Eve teased them while acting as if she felt insulted by their refusal to come along.

"Venez chèr ami," she said taking Ed by the arm. Her French with a heavy American accent made them al laugh heartily.

"Now, get out and have fun. We'll be seeing you both tomorrow." Ironside said and watched the two walk out arm in arm, waving goodbye with their free hands without looking back.

"Finally, alone," the Chief sighed as he heard Mark close the door on them.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

"Hi Cathy!' What can I do for you?" the desk clerk asked. ''Got yourself another rendezvous with one of them rich punters, huh?''

"Sure honey," she smiled, taking one of her typical inviting poses, "None of them can resist my natural charms. Now, how about you telling me if you've got a Mr. Ironside in the house."

"Your wish is my command." he said with a little reverence. "Let's see…, Ironside you said …," with his index running down the page . "Higgins ..., Hudson ..., Immerson ..., Ironside …, Got it! Room _517_."

"Thanks, Danny. I owe you," she said throwing him a hand kiss.

"Hey ..., but ..., wait a minute ...! You're sure that's the one you are looking for? That's your appointment?" he insisted, looking at her incredulously.

"Yeah … positive. Is there a problem?" she asked while continuing to search her handbag for that new lipstick she bought earlier that day; a soft pink that matched perfectly with the rest of her make up. Something a little more distinguished.

She liked Danny, the desk clerk. He could have been her son and he at least treated her with some respect. That's why his reaction was to surprise her. It was not only insulting: it right out hurt her.

"It's your game baby," he had said, shrugging his shoulders, "First time I know you're having yourself a crippled one."

She raised her head with a jerk and looked daggers at Danny. He was startled. "Do I look like I'm working?" she threw at him, her voice screeching.

He took a step back as she, approaching him with an accusing finger, shouted "You take that back immediately!"

"Gee …,Cathy …, so so …, so …, sorryyy," he stuttered, "I …, I …, oh gee, I …, really didn't mean to be rude. Some …, somebody you know?"

She didn't bother answering him and walked swiftly away towards one of the elevators mumbling, "Room _517_."

Danny's brutal confirmation of what she had discovered earlier that evening crushed definitively the little spark of hope she had that maybe, just maybe, her eyes had deceived her. It tightened the knot in her stomach as the elevator took her to the fifth floor.

There it was. She looked at the door and the number _517 ._ She took a deep breath tried to clear her mind and knocked. No reaction. She heard the television was on and knocked again: harder.

Inside the room, Mark, was sitting on the side of the Chief's bed watching the basketball game. He straightened up, turned his head towards the door and listened.

"What's up, Mark?"

"Thought I heard someone knock, Chief." Mark had jumped to his feet and already stood by the door. He opened just in time to see a woman turn around ready to walk away. "Yes?" he said and faced a woman in her late forties, rather decently dressed, maybe just a little bit to much make-up. He didn't immediately recognize her but then, when she spoke, there was no doubt. It was her.

"Is this the room of Robert Ironside?" she asked with that recognizable broken voice. She heard someone from inside the room ask, "Who is it Mark?"

"It's our mystery lady, Chief!" Mark replied loudly.

"I heard," Ironside called out, " Let her come through, Mark!"

She hadn't awaited the invitation to enter. Her female curiosity had taken over as soon as she had recognized Ironside's voice. She pushed Mark aside with a little "Sorry!" and headed straight towards where she heard the sound come from. She discovered Robert Ironside comfortably installed upon his bed.

"Hello Bob!" she said with her strange raucous voice, "Never thought I'd ever see you again."

He looked at her inquiringly. She sure had something familiar about her, but...

Meanwhile Mark, had joined them and observed silently, intrigued by the scene. Their mystery lady had finally showed up just like the Chief had predicted. She had apparently found the courage to face what had scared her off earlier that evening. "One point for you, Chief," he thought.

Even though he still didn't have a clue as to who she was ,Ironside introduced Mark to her as his aide. She looked hastily at the young man and gave him a polite nod without bothering any further.

She immediately directed her attention again at the Chief. "You don't recognize me, don't you?" she laughed.

He visibly didn't and she in return didn't sound or even seem disappointed by it. She knew how much her looks had changed. She had literally burned her candle at both ends. "It sure has been a long time since we last met," she confirmed.

He kept on observing her until she finally divulged her identity. "It's me Cathy ..., I mean ..., Catherine ..., Catherine Dev …,"

"Deveraux! Catherine Deveraux! Ironside finished the introduction taping his hand against his forehead, smiling at her in recognition. "A long time ago you said. An eternity you mean. It must date back to high school." He sounded really pleased to have finally recalled her.

"Now I get it," he said shaking his finger.

"What do you mean?"

"Well ..., you know ..., the allusion ..., earlier tonight ..., the fastest man."

"Oh … ! That …," she sighed slightly uneasy.

" You were cheerleader," he continued reminiscing.

"And you were one of the stars on the team," she replied, beginning to feel more and more uncomfortable. Before she had entered his room she had made up her mind. She would keep strong for him. However, as she now stood near the bed and glanced at the shiny metal wheelchair and finally his still legs, sprawled over the bed, something inside her snapped. With her self control gone, her damaged voice gave away the pity she felt at seeing him like this: physically broken.

The smile on his face had disappeared. Robert Ironside just knew what was coming. It was one of those situations he dreaded. As he kept on looking at her he noticed how she tried to discretely wipe away a tear, unconsciously making it even more difficult on him.

"Oh God …! Bob …," shaking her head in disbelief, "How come …? Since when?" she sobbed and remained there, speechless, looking at his immobile legs.

Her attitude was a telling measure. He concluded she really didn't know. "It happened a couple of years ago." Ironside said very calmly without looking at her. "It was in all the news." He paused, took a deep breath and, trying to ease the tension, added more or less jokingly, "Don't you read the papers or watch TV in Las Vegas?"

"I sometimes have the impression there is no life outside Las Vegas. The day I ended up here …," her voice stocked, "The day …" she looked away trying to hide the tears she could no longer withhold.

"Go on, Catherine. Go on! Spit it out," he encouraged her. He straightened up as much as he could and stretched his left arm, trying to take her hand in a comforting gesture.

"Oh no ..., no, no,no …, I can't, I can't …," she cried out. She unexpectedly turned around, ran to the door past a bemused Mark, threw it open violently and disappeared.

"Catherine …! Cathy! " Ironside called out after her.

"Shall I get her back, Chief?" Mark asked from the door, ready to run after her.

"No, Mark!. No …, Leave it!" Ironside sighed, letting himself sink back in the pillows. Situations like these always left him emotionally worn out.

He stared at his useless, unfeeling legs and instinctively tried, with all his might, to move them. The strain on his face gave away just how intensely he tried and tried. Nothing happened, like all the innumerable times before. What else had he expected? He hung his head: resigned. But only for the time being.

Robert Ironside closed his eyes and tried to recall how it once felt to run across the football field. With time passing by even that memory began to fade; slowly but surely. Once more he had to face it. If he had rather well adjusted to his physical limitations, the emotional wound hadn't healed yet and it really didn't take much to rip it open again.

"Chief ... ! Chief … !" he felt Mark's hand gently shaking his shoulder. As he opened his eyes he was surprised by the concerned look on Mark's face.

"You're alright, Chief?"

"Yeah! Sure. Any reason why I shouldn't be?" ironside asked moody.

"How about you and I having a drink downstairs?" Mark invited, ignoring the Chief's grumpy reaction. He was very much aware his boss needed to take his mind of things. "I noticed they have a very nice bar down there, with an impressive collection of whiskeys," he went on while moving around the bed to fetch the wheelchair.

Ironside didn't need to think long. As soon as he noticed his friend was bringing him his wheels he pushed himself into an upright sitting position, ready for the transfer, which he by now could perfectly manage alone. Nevertheless he asked Mark to give him a hand and went on, "Great idea Mark. I really need to get out of here. And a drink. A bourbon: _old fashioned_. That's no refusal."

Installed in his chair, Ironside unlocked the brakes and wheeled swiftly towards the door.

Mark, who still sought his jacket, flashed a broad smile in satisfaction as he heard his impatient friend call out, "Com'on! What's keeping you? Let's not waste time."


	4. Chapter 3

_Chapter3_

Pete returned straight to his office on the first floor. He hung the - _do not disturb_ - sign on the door and locked it before he dropped onto the couch. Nerves tingling all over his body.

Here in the intimacy of his office he could let of steam; out of sight of everyone.

"Yes, Mr. Bertini. No, Mr. Bertini. Sure, Mr. Bertini" he repeated to himself with a nagging, monotonous tone.

He was frustrated but could only blame himself. If only he wasn't such a coward. If only he dared speak his mind, stand up for himself. If only, if only... But no! He had to be a frightened weasel.

Pete jumped to his feet and started walking around in circles. He would gladly have punched some poor fellow, preferably someone even more boneless than him.

Cursing Mr. Bertini and his whole entourage he slowly began to regain his composure and was glad no one could see him like that. At that moment he looked around anxiously. Was he really alone?

"Oh stop it, Pete! Stop it!" he hissed between his teeth as he felt his heartbeat growing stronger again.

Pete thought about the conversation he had just had with Mr. Bertini. What was Mr. Bertini so afraid of? That dead girl? "Pooh! That was three weeks ago. Long forgotten." Pete tried to reassure himself.

He recalled it didn't get more than ten lines of newspaper coverage. And then what? Everywhere in this country people got killed. Vegas was no exception to the rule. So ..., one dead girl more or less ... Pete hunched his shoulders, it sure wasn't worth all the fuss.

Since the Chief had left them the car for the night, Ed and Eve gratefully used it to cruise around a little.

They both knew Vegas, but this mythical place had something about it and this something made it unique.

The flashy neon lights, the large hotel-casino compounds rivaling each other in sumptuousness. Every time it seemed different. The greatest stars had their shows running successfully for months or longer.

"Look, Ed! Dean Martin on the playbill," Eve noticed as they drove by.

"Yeah. I've seen. Not bad. But ... er ... I prefer something ... a little more swinging," he said, rhythmically snapping the fingers from his left hand.

"I really wonder who that woman was?" Eve suddenly changed the conversation. "Hard to imagine it is someone the Chief knew at one time or another."

"Well, I don't know Eve. Anyway ..., she referred to a time long gone by and from what I saw I have the impression her path wasn't strewn with roses."

"Would she have paid another visit to the Chief?" Eve asked while continuing watching the scenery.

"The Chief seemed convinced she would. You know Eve, I'm sure he will tell us if she's been back or not. Now. You tell me. Where to?"

Eve seemed lost in her thoughts. "Eve!" he shook her arm, "Eve, where to?

"Let's try our luck at blackjack. How about it? Seeing Ed hesitate a little she added, "I feel this is my lucky night and you know what they say about a woman's..."

"Intuition" Ed completed. "Alright then. Go for blackjack. One casino in particular or do we chose at random?"

"My intuition. Your choice." Eve proposed.

A little while later they walked amidst the nickel slots, amused by all the people who were bewitched by the one-armed bandits, and their revolving fruit images, they faced and stared at imperturbably. With perfectly timed gestures they put in a nickel and pulled the handle, never tiring: nickel … pull, nickel … pull, nickel ... pull, nickel … pull. It was crazy. Some even played more then one machine at the time.

"Come on, Eve or I won't have the chance to witness the miracles you promised your intuition will accomplish" Ed laughed.

"First, take a good look around. Pick a table with a sympathetic dealer," she explained while maneuvering between the tables until she finally spotted one with some vacant seats. Eve pulled Ed by his sleeve behind her.

"You're sure, Eve? This is _the _table? He was teasing her.

"Sit down, Ed and concentrate. This is serious business," she said with such a conviction that he looked at her astonished.

"Tell me I'm not dreaming. You ain't kidding? Eve! I thought we were supposed to have fun tonight?

"Oh, but we will, Ed," she answered looking at him with a little knowing smile and a wink, "We will."

"Well, well. Wake me please. Is this the same Eve I had dinner with tonight?

"Any complaints?" Eve asked without looking at her partner, stacking up the chips she just bought. "Come on, Ed! Get out the money and ... " she already collected her first gain having started the game with a winning hand: Black Jack! She managed a little smile at Ed's attention while taking in the chips from a new winning hand. "Come on! You play or are you going to look at me like that all night long?"

Before Ed had bought his chips, she was already completely absorbed by the game. Her intuition had proved her right. Eve was getting the best cards at the table and beat the dealer nine times out of ten. Her smile growing larger and larger as the stacks before her grew bigger and bigger.

"If only the Chief could see her," Ed thought, while changing reluctantly a new ten dollar bill, the second already in less than fifteen minutes.

Leaning sideways, Eve whispered to Ed, "Place your bet behind mine. I don't want to see you put up the car for bail." She felt Ed stare at her and when she finally turned her head they both snorted with laughter as soon as their eyes met. Eve's enthusiasm proved contagious and Ed finally let himself be carried along by the frenzy of the game. He no longer regretted being part of the trip. Ed also started to collect the chips and with every winning hand saw his stacks grow. It didn't take long before he had recovered his two ten dollar bills and since he was now looking at a rather impressive amount of chips he even dared increase his bet. Chance sure was on Eve's side that night. Ed didn't say a word, afraid it might reverse their luck. The broad smile on his face spoke volumes. Time passed by unnoticed, the dealers changed, and Eve's good fortune... well, it seemed endless.

Meanwhile in a not so far distant part of the town another blackjack fanatic was less much satisfied. Security men were already surrounding the blackjack table. It was a private game. One punter was playing seven boxes at the maximum stake. The customer wasn't pleased with the dealer and demanded, ordered another one. "You get me a nice looking lady dealer," he bellowed, "I've just had it with him. A peasant! A clumsy, unfriendly, stupid peasant." He was looking around for someone in charge as he continued venting his discontent. " Get him out of my sight! A lady dealer. I want a lady dealer and I'll give you thirty seconds. Blond and tall and smiling, or I take my money elsewhere. Do you hear me, you bunch of amateurs. I'll take my money across the street! Get me the manager! I wanna see the manager right away!"

The man's outburst had attracted the attention of many and one could see people from all around stretching their necks to observe the rabble rouser.

It didn't take long for Pete to show up. "Please, sir, no need for any commotion. I'm sure we can arrange something. A new dealer is on the way." He tried to soothe the man.

As manager he had immediately been warned there was something going on at the private blackjack table. It was another part of his job that he didn't like. Again he had to pretend. Pretend he understood the customer, that he sympathized with him. He did it all with a complaisant smile, rubbing his hands, being one and all humility while he actually, silently called the man names and cursed him for being such a pain in the ass. He would have thrown him out but … the guy had lots of money to spend and that bought him the right to behave the way he did.

The dealer had been changed and now that the angry guy was starring at a friendly, pretty face presenting a cup C at his eye level, he calmed down and for a while had only eyes for the indeed charming lady dealer.

Pete withdrew almost unnoticed, for a while remaining in the vicinity to observe. The gambler was definitely a foreigner. His English, though perfect was slightly tainted with a strange accent. Pete couldn't figure out its origin. European most probably but that's about the furthest his geographical knowledge could take him. Pete finally thought the moment right to return to his office. In his mind he was already opening the fine bottle of wine he had taken out of his personal reserve only seconds before his presence had been so urgently requested. As he walked towards the elevator he noticed someone beckoning him to come closer. The wine would have to wait a little longer.

Without thinking Pete cursed "Goddamn!" and gave a solid kick into a heavy nearby standing ashtray. It had some staff turn around to look at him in surprise. But Pete, undisturbed, walked over to the man who fortunately stood far enough not to have noticed this ill-mannered performance. Automatically, as he shook hands with the man, Pete flashed a commercial smile in recognition. He would have made a perfect politician.

"I had a most wonderful evening. The young lady was charming and bright and had wit. It made dinner a pleasure. You sure know how to pick your ladies. I compliment you. I hope I can call on you again, next time I visit?" The man sure was full of praise and Pete basked in reflected glory. He had always sensed Dorothy was a perfect choice for his private small scale escort team. Pete was about to thank him for the appreciation when the man said, "Sorry I have to leave you but they're signaling me there is a vacant seat at the poker table. That's the future. Believe me. Nothing beats a good poker game." Pete still heard him advise from a distance.

For a few moments Pete remained there and looked around in the gaming room. Everything seemed alright. He was firmly decided to let no one ruin his further plans for a relaxed evening with his bottle as sole companion. How was he to know that fate had decided otherwise?


	5. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

After Cathy had fled from Ironside's room she had taken the service-steps down to the basement, gotten into her car trying to recollect herself.

Why on earth did she run away like that? What must he have thought? Probably that she felt ashamed of him.

"Oh no, Bob, certainly not," She was talking to herself. "It's myself I'm so ashamed of." She fought against the tears she felt surging again.

A lot of questions needed an answer. What did he mean with "It was in all the news?" and who the hell are you to be so news worthy. Not knowing: it ate at her.

"Jeff! Sure ..., that's it. Yeah ..., Jeff ...! He'll know." She started tiding herself up. "Come on, Cathy. Let's go find him." She continued encouraging herself until she finally took of.

Cathy stopped by the first phone booth and dialed Jeff's home number. She knew it by heart. "Damned!" No luck. He wasn't home yet.

The journal. Let's try the journal. He must be at his office on the second floor of the _Las Vegas Sun._

"Please ..., please ....! Answer! Please ..., God, let him be there." She grew more and more nervous.

"Las Vegas Sun. Jeff Berrenstein!" Cathy's face enlightened as she recognized his jovial voice,

"Jefffffff! It's Cathy. Geeee I'm I glad to have found you." She sounded all excited. Without giving him a chance to say something she went on "Stay where you are. I'll be there in ten minutes," and put down the phone.

He was perplexed. What was that all about? For years he had known Cathy and he could tell if something worried her. Not even five minutes later did the doorman announce him he had a lady visitor.

"Yeap! I'm expecting her. Send her up, Ray. She knows the way." As soon as she entered his messy office Jeff came over to her "Cathy! Here my girl" and embraced her warmly. "Hey, hey, look at me." holding her face within both hands. "You've been crying."

"Oh, it's nothing," she insisted, "I need your help. You're the only one I know who can give me the answers."

"Answers? It all depends. Answers to what?"

"I need to get some information about an old friend of mine. Will you help me?"

"Sure ... Sure … I 'll see what I can do. Will I need ...?" he asked, pointing his thumb into the direction of the room behind him. He rose from his chair, as she nodded in affirmation, and he headed for the adjoining little space where he kept his archives. She followed him, lighthearted.

"How about giving me some details. A date ..., a name ..., anything ..., and I'll work miracles for my Cathy," he promised laughing. "Well ...? Tell me. I presume your friend has a name ?" he continued talking, trying to cheer her up a little.

"Ironside. His name is Ironside. Robert Ironside," she said.

Jeff stopped. He turned around and looked at her in disbelief. "_The _Ironside?"

"I don't know what you mean by _the _but yes, yes, yes, his name is Ironside" her impatience building up.

"Are you gone tell me, or not?

"Calm down, Cathy," he counseled, while going through some files and retrieving a couple of clippings.

Jeff now faced her, holding the clippings against his chest.

"Don't play with me, Jeff," she pleaded, "It"s already been difficult enough for me tonight."

He came closer and stopped just in front of her, turned the first clipping and held it up, "Is it him?"

She looked at it and ... "Yes," she sighed. With another sigh of relief and a timid smile on her lips she revealed to Jeff, without taking her eyes of the picture, "Yes. It's him. I knew him a long time ago. We went to college together."

"I don't get it Cathy. You know him and still you come to me for some information. What do you want to know exactly?"

"You'll find me a complete idiot but I haven't got a clue to what has become of him since college. I mean; who is he, or what is he, or whatever happened to him? Oh, Jeff, I'm such an ignorant, unworldly old maid."

"Who he is? Happened? Oh! I see. You mean..., um..., the wheelchair...?" his unbelief at her ignorance growing with the instant. "He got shot, Cathy."

"Shot!" she cried out, horrified, her voice grating from strain. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Occupational hazards." Jeff said dryly. "Many cops do get shot one time or another."

"He's a cop? Oh wow!" she raised her eyes heavenwards as she felt more surprises were awaiting her.

"Not just a cop, honey. He's San Francisco's ex Chief of detectives. He's a very famous guy, my dear Cathy. And you tell me you didn't know any of it." He shook his head. "Hard to believe."

Jeff had taken a seat and kept on looking at her with laughing eyes. "My, my. Cathy. Chief Ironside a friend of yours. Waaaooooow! Not bad, not bad." He started clapping his hands. "Bravo!"

He opened a drawer and reached for the bottle of bourbon hidden underneath some papers. "Fancy one?"

"I shouldn't, really I shouldn't."She bit her nails. "But ... oh, what the heck! Go on ...! Pour away! After all, I can do with a bracer."

She sighed deeply and assailed Jeff with new questions. "When did he get shot? Was it in the line of duty?

What has become of him since?"

"Wooow, wooooow, stop it! Relax baby, relax. Take a sip and listen."

Cathy did as told and seated on the edge of her chair listened to Jeff, fascinated.

"So ..., it means that he's still an active cop despite the fact that... that he's a...he's a ... a para ... plegic?" she could hardly get the word over her lips. "That's quite a story, Jeff."

"Yep! Cathy. Your friend is a goddamned courageous man. First thing he did when he got out of the hospital was to go after the one who pumped those bullets into him."

"I'm sure it didn't take long before he found him." she reacted beginning to feel proud about her old friend.

"No. It didn't. Except that the _he _ in the end turned out to be a _she_."

At this she fell back in her chair, speechless and full of disbelief.

Yes, my dear lady, it is _a woman_ who condemned him to that chair."

"Anything else?" Jeff teased her.

No reaction. She was stunned. For quite a while she kept on staring despondently at the newspaper clippings Jeff had left on his desk.

As he observed her he realized how unusually vulnerable his Cathy was tonight and that she needed some time to absorb all the information.

"I have to get going." she finally said with a new resolve. She got up and emptied her glass. "Thank you, Jeff. You've always been a friend to me." Her impatience at leaving him undeniable. "I didn't know what to expect when I came here but now I absolutely have to go see someone and make up for my clumsy behavior tonight. Oh..., I so hope he'll forgive me."

She already opened the door but then unexpectedly turned around, ran to Jeff and kissed him affectionately, before finally leaving .

* * *

_Time for a well deserved thank you to Carol Samson my dear american beta reader_. _Your help is most precious as I do not always get the standard american expressions right_._ I value your hints and corrections _. _You haven't finished with me yet as there is more to come _(lol)


	6. Chapter 5

_Chapter 5_

The officer in charge ordered his men to have the scene cleared and secured.

They had arrived on the spot only a few minutes after the girl had dropped to her death. So quickly that one might have concluded they knew in advance where and when to show up.

Within seconds people from all around had flocked together and watched in awe.

At that moment the Chief and Mark left the bar to return their room. There was no way they could ignore the turmoil in front of the building. There was the shouting, the blue lights flashing, the whaling siren of the arriving ambulance.

Without waiting for Mark the Chief wheeled towards the entrance of the hotel.

Quite a lot of people were still hanging around making it rather difficult for him to have a clear view. All he could see was someone lying face down in a pool of blood. He assumed it was a woman. The body didn't seem heavy built nor tall.

Automatically he tried to get closer but was rudely stopped by one of the officers, a burly type. From his six feet five, hands on his hips, he looked down on the Chief with an unmistakable contempt. "Where do you think you're going to?" he barked.

Ironside felt the hair on his neck rise. He took a deep breath and swallowed. Before him stood the kind of law officer he despised. It was true that, ever since he got stuck in this chair, he had become much more sensitive to this unmannered way of addressing someone.

Mark, noticing the aggressive attitude of the officer towards his boss, was rapidly coming he was suddenly stopped by their mystery lady, Cathy, with the words, "Please, let me handle this." Before he could react or say a word she had walked over to the officer who was still blocking Ironside's path.

Although he would gladly have told the man a few home truths the Chief refrained from reacting to the policeman's deliberate provocation. Ironside continued to look at the man with an apparent indifference. He remained calm and kept his expression from giving away the anger he felt boiling inside him. Instead of declaring his identity verbally he reached calmly for his badge.

That's when Cathy showed up and interposed herself. She gently put her hand on Ironside's arm halting his gesture and with a sign from her eyes beckoned him not to divulge his identity.

He looked at her inquiringly and to her great relief indulged the silent request.

"Well, well, look who's here. Cathy! Just in time to show this gentleman the way to more exciting places," the officer laughed as he gave her a slap on the bottom.

And looking at the Chief, "We wouldn't want you leaving a trail of blood as you wheel back inside," he said disdainfully.

"Oh knock it off, Charley!" she threw at him, "No need to be so insulting."

"Come on, sir. Shall we go inside and leave these fine officers to their business?" Cathy said to the Chief, her heart pounding faster as she moved behind his wheelchair and slowly started pushing him towards the lobby. Ironside let her carry on.

"I'll explain," she whispered, "I'll join you upstairs a little later."

Once inside the hotel she left the Chief with a polite "Goodbye!" and walked away without looking back.

Ironside noticed the policeman was still watching them.

Meanwhile Mark had joined the Chief. "What was that all about, Chief? What's going on here?" he questioned as he watched Catherine walk away as if she didn't know them.

"I don't know yet, Mark. But ...," looking at his aide in a revealing way, "I feel we're about to find out ... and soon."

"Did you manage to see what happened out there?" Before the Chief could say something Mark's question was answered by one of the other hotel guests, an elderly man, also waiting for the elevator. "I heard someone jumped of the roof. A young girl they say."

"Seems she worked in a one of the casino's," a woman added.

By the time they got out on the fifth floor the Chief and Mark already knew a bit more.

"What next, Chief?"

"Don't close the door, Mark. We may expect a visitor any minute now."

They didn't need wait long for Catherine to announce herself with a little knock on the door and a discrete "May I come in?"

"It's open! Come through! You know the way." Ironside invited her in.

"Well, uh! Hello again, shall we say. Pleased to meet you, _Chief._" she said with an unmistakable punctuation of the word: Chief.

"So ... you know."

She nodded affirmatively.

"Who told you?"

"I went to see a friend after I left here earlier tonight."

"Fled ... you mean." Mark couldn't resist remarking.

"Huh ..., yeah, sure ..., my behavior. Oh, boy, not very delicate, huh? Will you forgive me, Robert?" She called him by his first name.

Ironside plowed straight ahead, "Why did you intervene tonight and drag me away from there?"

"Charley is a real bad guy. I thought it better he didn't know who you are. Well, at least, not yet."

"What is that supposed to mean? He's a cop. I'm a cop. So why the secrecy?"

"There are the honest ones, and there are the crooked cops."

"And he's one of them. Thank you. I've got the picture." Ironside said.

"Yes, Bob. This is Vegas. Money is the word. Lots of money all around this town. Some can resist the temptation: but Charley couldn't." She paused a while and then added to Ironside's astonishment, "And I couldn't." It was an honest confession and the way she said it revealed relief. Relief that she finally told someone.

"Now you know. I'm on the take like so many others around here."

"That's a serious confession, Catherine. You seem to have forgotten I am a cop."

"And you will hold it against me?" she said, but as if she didn't care.

"Well, I' m out of my jurisdiction anyway. So ... let's pretend I didn't hear it."

At this, Mark gave the Chief a look of disbelief. He wasn't used to hearing his boss talk like that.

"Tell me Catherine. About tonight. Was there anything you didn't want me to see? I let you wheel me away, but I know, I just feel it, something wasn't right." B**y **the way he looked at her she realized Ironside definitely awaited an explanation.

"I don't know much, not yet, but ... I know who the dead girl is, or … was." she admitted.

"The way you say it it sounds as if it wasn't suicide or... an accident? Well …, was it or wasn't it?" the Chief insisted.

Catherine was moderately surprised. "Jeff told me you were a smart one. Seems he was right." She had a little smile on her lips. "I haven't any proof of it but I suspect something is going on. I knew the girl a little bit and she didn't leave me the impression of being a feeble character." Looking at the ceiling she immediately added, "And then, there was that other girl about three weeks ago."

"What other girl? You have my full attention." He hunched forward. "Go on! Now that you've started. Go on, give me the details."

"That one arrived not so long ago, seven, maybe eight months ago, and she was trained as a croupier. Many girls think that by working in a casino they will find the rich man who'll take them away and offer them paradise." She giggled as she said this. Seeing the Chief look at her inquiringly she explained, "At least that's what I thought when I arrived here a long time ago."

"And you know better by now I guess, " he stated a little sarcastically.

"Oh yes" she sighed. "Unfortunately I found out very soon and... at my own cost." Her smoke stained voice growing hoarser as she continued her story; self assured. "My prince charming was addicted to the game and to the booze. But I was in love and love is blind it seems. One good day Jimmy was gone. Nobody ever heard from him again. Anyway, he left me his debts and his mobster friends for whom the inexperienced, naive girl I then was proved to be the perfect victim."

Ironside listened attentively and didn't interrupt her. What he couldn't get her to tell earlier that night she now told him without beating about the bush.

"They left me no choice. Work for them to repay Jimmy's debts and they guaranteed me I'd be left in peace."

"Why didn't you leave this place, like your friend?" he dared to ask.

She shook her head. "It's easier said than done. I also thought I could simply walk away but ... but ...I too had picked up a liking for the booze and a game from time to time. I was young and clue-less. It was party time every day. Before I fully realized it, all my savings …," she snapped her fingers, "gone up in smoke. On top of Jimmy's debts came mine. I had trapped myself."

She got up and went over to the window. From the fifth floor they had a nice view over the city. "Great view huh, Bob?" She turned around as no answer came and saw the two men look at her dead serious, awaiting the rest of her story.

Sitting on the windowsill, she continued, "Time went by and so did the best years of my life. Booze..., cigarets..., men, lots of men, heavy gambling, and finally ..., mob controlled shady business . You don't wanna know. All the dirty tricks I had part in.I was only interested in myself, and I couldn't care less for what happened outside this f... place," she confessed. By the way she looked at him the Chief could tell she tried to apologize for not knowing he had fallen victim to a would-be assassin.

"I think I've heard enough. I suppose you still work for these people, or at least have ties with them?" Ironside wanted to know.

"My glory days are over but today I have other trumps now; I have experience, I know a lot and I have made quite a good number of friends, some high placed. Well ..., don't you take _friends_ too literally. I guess that's about it in a nutshell," she sighed deeply.

"You see, Catherine." Ironside wheeled himself somewhat closer, "It was not so difficult after all to tell me about your life here in Vegas."

She remained silent for a moment while she again stared out of the window

The Chief looked at his watch, "It's late. Shall we leave it to that for tonight? Go home. I suppose there is a home?"

"Yes. I have my little safe haven, thank God."

"Good," Ironside nodded, "Anyway..., I'm glad you ... you finally found the courage to come see me."

At this she faced him and apologized once more for her earlier awkward attitude. "Bob, can I phone you, or come see you if I find out anything about tonight that doesn't sound right?" she asked.

"I don't expect anything less, Catherine. And we'll talk about that other girl as well. Deal?"

"Deal! Well, goodnight then. It's so good to have met you, Bob, to have talked to you." She smiled at him, a smile of gratitude.

"Goodnight, Mark. Will you let me out?"

As Mark accompanied her to the door, she stopped short of leaving and with a low voice murmured, "From the little I've seen I can tell you like him very much. I trust you to take good care of him."

Mark was about to answer but she put her finger on his lips. "Sssssss! No need to speak. Your whole attitude tells me more than words ever could ... Bye!" He watched her walk away, totally surprised. Catherine turned around once more and waved at him before she disappeared into the elevator.


	7. Chapter 6

_Chapter 6  
_

The night was already passed halfway before the occupants of room _517_ went to bed. When, the next morning, Ed and Eve arrived around nine they were surprised to find Mark opening the door in his pajamas, yawning sleepily, while the Chief was also still in bed, sitting upright, having coffee.

"Seems like these two had themselves a wild night, Ed. And we who thought they were planning to watch the basketball game. Naughty boys." Eve tried to make it sound reproachful; meanwhile nestling herself at the foot end of the Chief's bed. Ironside peered at her and noticed once more, how great she looked. "How was your evening?" he simply asked.

Eve beamed as she took her handbag ready to show the Chief and Mark the considerate amount of green bills they had so easily won on blackjack. "Ed, shall I let them regret to have refused our invitation? Ed didn't answer as he felt there were more important things to talk about. "Seems somebody fell from the roof of this hotel late yesterday evening? I suppose you already heard?" he asked looking at the Chief.

Ironside pretended not to know and gave Mark an innocent, inquiring look meaning, "What is he talking about? Did you hear anything?"

"Unbelievable! Someone meets his death here in front of the hotel lobby and you want us to believe you don't know. Eve! Pinch me! I must be dreaming," Ed sighed and dumped himself onto the nearest seat. "Any coffee left, Mark?" he asked with an audible touch of disappointment.

"Yeah, there still is some left. How about you Eve?" Mark asked, checking the coffeepot.

"No, thanks! I already had plenty of it at breakfast."

"Mark! I could do with another one," Ironside lifted his cup, "And … ask room-service to bring some extra coffee. I feel like I will need it."

Ed and Eve realized their boss was perfectly aware of the tragedy that had occurred less than ten hours before.

Barely five minutes later someone knocked. "Must be room service. I'll get it" Mark said, "Or..., maybe it's her again, Chief?"

Ed and Eve looked at each other and asked in chorus, "Her?"

"Open up, Mark! It's the only way to find out," Ironside said firmly. It was time to stop pretending and though still a little tired from the short night the strong coffee had boosted his energy.

"Why do I have this strange feeling you are going to get involved in one way or another? And if I say, you, I actually mean … us. Chief this is a pure matter for the Las Vegas police. Why don't we let them do their job? Ed wondered.

"Who said we would intervene, Ed. I don't intend to, but … nothing keeps us from nosing around a little and pricking up our ears." Ironside replied, flashing an anodyne little smile.

"I knew it, I just knew it. It's stronger than you, Chief. Admit it." Ed shook his head disapprovingly.

"It was indeed room service." Mark said while heading for the Chief's bed; a smell of fresh coffee in his trail.

"And how about finally telling us who _she _really is?" Eve's asked.

"Someone I once knew in college, but had completely forgotten about. In fact I didn't even recognize her, Eve. And that's all there is to it for the moment."

Eve, having realized he wasn't planning to tell her anything more, didn't insist, knowing in the end she would find out by herself.

Sipping on the fresh cup of coffee Mark had handed him, the Chief finally gave them a brief survey of the events of the night before. There really wasn't much to tell yet. After all nothing indicated that what had happened was not just a mere accident.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," he counseled. "It's now well after ten so I suggest you two take a cab and leave for the conference hall right away, and ... put your ears to the ground. We'll catch up with you later."

* * *

The elevator door opened. Nobody else in it. As usual, Mark pulled the wheelchair in backwards. Ironside looked over his shoulder at his aide.

"Let's take a look on the upper floor, Mark, instead of going to the garage right away," he suggested with a wink.

"But …, Chief, what about the conference?"

"Don't you bother about that, Mark. I"m sure I won't be missed."

"That's strange, Chief." Mark sounded intrigued as he pushed the button to the tenth floor. "There appear to be only ten stories. I could have sworn there were eleven. I counted them when we arrived, and don't ask me why," he added immediately as he noticed Ironside's amused expression.

"I think you're right, Mark. Look! Here!" Ironside put his index on a small keyhole above the tenth floor button. "It takes a special key to get up higher."

With a discrete whoosh the elevator door opened onto a deserted tenth floor corridor. Mark pushed him out of the elevator. "Seems to me there is nothing special up here." Mark said having taken a quick look around and he was already prepared to leave again. "The end of our visit, huh, Chief?"

"Not yet, Mark, but this is where _my_ visit ends," Ironside sighed. "I'm sure the staircase will lead you to the rooftop." He pointed towards the door next to the elevator. "Go on, open up." Mark obeyed and discovered indeed a staircase and that via it he could get higher up, most probably even up to the rooftop. Ironside followed him into the narrow staircase and send him on his way. It was with a slight hesitation Mark finally started mounting the stair, asking, "What do I look for, Chief?"

"Anything unusual. I'm sure you'll know when you see it. Now go, before someone shows up. Go, go, go...!"

Mark had disappeared from his sight. The slowly fading echo of a closing door descended upon Ironside. The Chief kept on watching those steps for what seemed an eternity to him. Steps: they were his worst enemy. As he sat there looking at them he could have sworn he heard them laugh. Laugh at him and his wheels. He suddenly felt awfully humiliated. He still had his hands on the wheels and clasped them firmly. Filled with anger he maneuvered out. With a brutal jerk he turned his wheelchair around into the corridor, breathing heavily.

Ironside was so frustrated that when he finally heard someone say to him,"There's nothing special up there ... " it seemed to come out of the blue. There really were no words to describe that feeling of helplessness. With a deep sigh the Chief tried to get it out of his mind.

"Chief ...? Did you hear me? I said there's apparently nothing interesting on that roof. Well that is ..., I didn't see anything worthwhile ..., Chief?" Mark looked at him as he still got no reaction. He was most surprised. He looked around inquiringly. There was nothing there and no one else around either. He didn't get it.

"That's what I feared. Most of the usable evidence must have been destroyed by the many people who went up there last night." Ironside finally answered turning towards Mark.

"Sorry, Chief for not having been of much help," Mark said as he closed the door to the staircase. "Can we leave now? I'm afraid you will already completely have missed the introduction to the conference." As he let go the doorknob it suddenly all became clear to him. The Chief's apparent distress. Yeah …, of course, sure …, that had to be it; those steps he had just climbed so agile with his boss, his friend, forced to sit immobile, watching on. Why didn't he think about that? He felt bad and was even more impatient to leave, "Shall we, Chief?" he insisted.

Ironside only nodded as he watched Mark forcefully press the elevator call button repeatedly. "That won't help to make it come up quicker, Mark." the Chief finally said.

At this hour of the day it was rather calm in the hotel. Many guests were still asleep after hours and hours spent in the gaming rooms. The elevator took the two men from the tenth to the basement in one ride. The rented car was a brown 1969 Chevrolet Belair 4 - door sedan. Its large front doors opened wide, thus making it definitely easier for Mark to help his boss slide into the passenger front seat.

"Maybe it was not such a good idea after all to go up there," Ironside said as he watched Mark fold the wheelchair.

"Not sure, Chief. But yeah, a more experienced eye might have spotted something," Mark went on as he moved the folded chair towards the trunk.

"Maybe yes, maybe no, Mark. I'm sure you took a pretty good look up there. So ... don't blame yourself."

They didn't know someone had been watching them ever since they had entered the garage and was now coming their way. Ironside reached to close the door but the newcomer held it. The moment the Chief looked up to see who the stranger was he recognized Charley's deep voice, sounding as outrageous as the night before, "Well ..., ha,ha... look who we have here. Our would be Mr. Sherlock Holmes on wheels."

An unsuspecting Mark hearing a stranger make a mock of his boss, literally dropped the chair in the trunk and stepped out from behind it, ready to intervene.

"And there's his boy," Charley continued laughing, "Sherlock and his boy. You two sure would make a nice team." He was convinced a little intimidation would do, " I don't know who you are or what you're up to but ..."

"Are you threatening us, officer?" Ironside abruptly interrupted Charley. The Chief's aggressive tone and ice cold piercing look didn't miss its goal. Charley was thrown off balance and obviously already less assured simply counseled, "Take my advice gentlemen. Just leave it up to the real police."

With a quick two – finger salute and a short "have a nice day" he quickly walked away.

"Come on, Mark. We've wasted enough time. Get me to the conference hall.." Ironside said closing his door.

Mark slammed the trunk shut and got behind the wheel. "He talks as if he knew I've been up on the roof. But there was no one there, Chief. Of that I am a 100% sure. There wasn't anybody else," he repeated as he started the engine.

"This Charley, or whatever his name is probably overheard us, Mark. I figure he's been watching us ever since we got into the garage. But one thing is for sure." Ironside said, looking meaningfully at Mark, "He doesn't know who I am, or at least he doesn't know yet. And I hope we can keep it that way a little longer."

The traffic, although dense, had no comparison with what they were used to in San Francisco and so it didn't take long to get to the conference hall.

"Look! There! Ed's waiting. I bet you a dollar he wonders what kept us." Ironside joked.

"Well! The introduction finished fifteen minutes ago. What kept you?" a worried Ed exclaimed as he opened the car door on the Chief's side.

"We did some ... _sightseeing_ on the roof of the hotel and met with a nervous police officer in the garage." Ironside explained while getting into his chair, Mark had hastily retrieved from the trunk. With a little nod towards Mark, the Chief hinted he was alright. "And, oh ... you owe me a dollar. Don't forget."

"Sightseeing …!" Ed called out rolling his eyes. "Eve is still inside. At least one of us should be able to tell the Commissioner what this conference was all about, don't you think? Mmmm … sightseeing …," Ed repeated as he still couldn't believe it. "You really have a way of putting things, Chief."


	8. Chapter 7

_Chapter 7_

If the night had been short in room _517_, four floors below someone hadn't slept at all.

Pete's evening had debuted with an impossible demanding customer playing blackjack. His meeting with Mr. Bertini, a few hours before, had already left him a nervous wreck. It was not the way he had imagined his day. Not after a small ray of sun had awakened him yesterday morning. For a short moment he had experienced that same feel good sensation the Louisiana sun usually produced when it once penetrated the window of his young man's bedroom, his safe heaven; but that was a long time ago.

After he had made sure the discontented blackjack punter would no longer be a problem he had returned to his office and had poured himself a drink. He enjoyed a glass of wine, especially red wine. He didn't remember when he picked up the liking of this divine nectar, but it was undeniable that no other alcohol had ever had such a relaxing effect. The smell, the taste, a combination so pure, so perfect, he almost felt privileged whenever he opened a bottle. He had learned to do it with such a delicacy that uncorking a bottle had become sort of a ritual. A moment of refinement in an ostensible heartless, merciless, uncivilized environment. That's how he once described it when in an all too rare poetic mood.

He had just swallowed the first sip of his quite expensive 1955 Chateau Lafleur Petrus, when he had received the call informing him of the drama that had occurred in front of the building. Deeply shocked the receptionist had hardly been able to formulate one decent sentence.

"God damned!" Pete had cursed, yelling in the speaker "Assure me! It can't be all that bad?" A long silence had followed during which Pete had only heard the accelerated, nervous breathing of the receptionist. "Answer me, you bloody idiot!" he had shouted again.

The receptionist was probably new for Pete hadn't recognized the voice. Knowing everyone by name was one of his strong points.

"She's dead, sir. Oh ... it's, it's ... horrible, blood ..., blood, all that blood and oooh....so young" the unfamiliar voice had finally stuttered.

Exasperated, Pete had thrown down the speaker without asking for more. That's when he had noticed he had knocked over his glass. He had frozen as he had watched the stain it had left. It was red. Red like ... blood and reason enough to make him act, make him run out of his office straight towards the scene of the accident, in front of the hotel lobby.

Not before dawn did Pete finally return to his office. All night long he had stayed in the vicinity of the investigators; just in case. But ... no one had paid him any attention except once, to tell him he should remain behind the police line. He couldn't deny it had offended him to be ignored that way. Despite that he had considered it his duty to stay around until all trace of this most regrettable incident was removed. He'd do anything for the good of _his_ business.

As he wearily opened the door of his office, he was overwhelmed by a salutary warmth. Only now did he realize how cold he was. In his hurry he hadn't bothered to put on a jacket. Daily temperatures were mild but Vegas nights and mornings in early March could be very, very chilly. Added to this the horror of what he had seen, the subsequent enervation and last but not least his concern about Mr. Bertini's reaction, it all made him tremble uncontrollably. His attention was attracted by the now almost totally dried up red wine stain. Pete bent over with a painful grimace as the sight of it made his empty stomach turn. He grasped a newspaper and threw it over the stain. He tried to reassure himself but at this point it seemed an almost impossible task. Tired as he was he stubbornly refused his body any rest and kept on pacing up and down. But... fatigue got the last word. Ultimately merely wobbling around like a wind-up duck running on low batteries, he finally sank onto the couch and fell asleep.

He was awakened by a continuous hammering on his door. He quickly realized he must have slept soundly for a few hours. "Who's there?" Pete was surprised by his hoarseness. "Oh, no, and now that. A cold." He walked, or rather he dragged his stiff body to the door and opened.

"Mr. Bertini wants you in his office right away." Pete perceived it as an uppercut. He looked up and recognized ... Toby.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Pete answered as calmly as possible and wanted to close the door but Toby put his foot in front.

"Mr. Bertini ordered me to wait for you. And hurry a bit," Toby summoned.

At the menacing tone of Toby's voice Pete understood he was to live difficult moments. He knew there was no time to tidy up and simply got his fingers through his hair, or what was left of it for he was already balding.

Like a beaten dog he shuffled along Mr. Bertini's gorilla. Toby knocked and let Pete in while he himself remained outside where he was joined by his colleague.

"I remember someone assuring me there would be no more trouble." Mr. Bertini was sitting in his leather chair behind his desk, back turned towards his visitor. "Pete, Pete, Pete why did you deceive me like this. A death plunge right in front of my building." Slowly Mr. Bertini turned around and looked hard at his casino manager. "Well! Don't make me ask twice. How do you explain this? And don't you dare lie to me."

Pete was still standing and remained dumb. He had nothing to say. He had no explanation. But Mr. Bertini was definitely not in the mood to accept a mere apology. He had remained quite polite so far but Pete knew the man was not unfamiliar with less civilized behavior, and Mr. Bertini's goons where standing just outside. Knowing that was enough to give Pete the creeps. He had to figure out something and soon. "Come on, Pete, think, think, there must be something you can say," he silently encouraged himself.

"And don't you go imagining I don't know about your scam with those young women." This revelation finished Pete off. He felt his knees buckle and though not invited too, sat down: his head bowed.

"No one was ever intended to get hurt," Pete finally whispered.

"I didn't hear well! What have you just said there? Come on man! Assume! You really thought it was without risk. Running your own fucking escort bureau right here under my nose." Mr. Bertini's tone was increasingly harsher and more intimidating.

Sitting uncomfortably on the edge of his chair Pete shrunk even more. Had he been that little dog he'd by now be hiding under the imposing bookcase. He'd always imagined it was there just for show and not to serve any real purpose.

"Well ...?" Slamming both fists on his desk Mr. Bertini made Pete jump to his feet. "Are you finally gonna talk? Speak up! Damn it! Wake up, Pete! Defend yourself! What are you gonna do about it?"

"No one was supposed to know about me …, _lending_ a girl to some rich and, of course, trustworthy customer. Every once in a while one of them big punters sought some company. It was more like doing … Well, you know. Doing a favor to a friend." Pete, his heart pounding in his throat, tried to make it sound as something harmless, insignificant. He managed to raise his eyes for the first time and was so staggered by Mr. Bertini's expression, he automatically looked down again. "I … assume ... the full ... responsibility, Mr. Bertini," he stammered, "but ... I can also assure you that the man she accompanied yesterday evening has nothing to do with it." Pete realized it was the only positive thing he had to say. Yeah, the customer stood above suspicion.

"What makes you so sure to affirm this?" Mr. Bertini seemed slightly calmed by this revelation.

Pete swallowed and summoned up his courage. In a few words he described the blackjack incident. "I was heading back to my office when I met the man in question at the bar. He was awaiting a place at a poker table. By the way, sir, this game seems to have a promising future," Pete tried to calm down his boss. In the past he had noticed that talking money considerably lessened the tension.

"No use trying that on with me. Not now!" Mr. Bertini threw at him. "We may have a murder on our hands and you wanna talk money. You better use your brains, man, as how to get us out of this mess."

Pete realizing his mistake, backed down and rapidly picked up where he left off. "He, I …, I mean the punter, he, uh ..., he had only taken the girl to dinner. He told me …, well, he simply told me how much ... he ... had been charmed by her nice looks and also her intelligence. I had hardly had time to get back to my office when I was informed about …, well, you know ..." Pete said regretfully.

"And that makes you conclude it had to be someone else, right, Pete?" Mr. Bertini looked at him disbelievingly.

"Well, yes. Mr. Bertini." Pete went on, " It couldn't have been him. I also didn't see Dorothy, oh, mmmm, that … that was her name, anywhere around and … no, no, not him. Please, believe me, Mr. Bertini. The way this man spoke about her. He didn't do it." Pete said shaking his head. He felt slightly relieved and at the same time anguished because the question as to who did it remained unanswered and frankly he didn't have a clue.

"Meaning we have a jealous friend, or a rejected admirer, or simply … a maniac on our hands, my dear Pete." Mr. Bertini stated while softly swinging his armchair. "Let's hope this unfortunate incident will be treated with the appropriate discretion by our friends within the force. This is not the kind of front page news I seek. I presume you still have your contacts within the force. Do you Pete? Use them! And ... use them well and keep me posted. As I feel there is not much more we can say or do right now I suggest you go back downstairs and keep your mouth shut. You hear me! Not a word! Goodbye, Pete." Mr. Bertini disdainfully waved him out.

Pete felt the tête-a-tête with Mr. Bertini had all by all been less awful then he had feared. Remained the question as to who, besides Mr. Bertini knew about his little arrangement with some of the young ladies on his staff.

He quickly went to his office. Sat down behind his desk, took the phone and dialed …. He let it rang until he finally heard someone pick up and answer with a simple, " Yeah …!"


	9. Chapter 8

_Posting this update is my way to prove that life goes on and hasn't succeeded in bringing me to my knees despite two serious blows in less than two months. I'm a born optimist but still. A heartfelt thank you to my beta, Carol, and some fans such as moms5thchild and lemonpig for their support and encouraging letters. _

_So..., let the story continue_

_Chapter 8_

Cathy headed home, a different person. Being used to the nightlife she didn't go to bed straight away, she just couldn't, she had to much on her mind. Keeping in place seemed almost impossible too, as the most conflicting emotions fought to get hold of her. But in the end she felt like she hadn't felt in years. It was a wonderful feeling, a bit scary, like waking up after a bad dream, an awfully long bad dream. Cathy let out a deep sigh of contentment, and after a while looked up and around, searching. Where did she put them, her high school photo albums. They were amongst the rare objects she had always treasured. It was pure nostalgia from a carefree time, long gone by.

"Come on Cathy! Think girl!" she encouraged herself. "Oh, yeah, that must be it …, the basement, that large old trunk." She hurried down the small steps, and almost fell. "Relax!!! Ah ..., there." Cathy sank to her knees and opened the worn wooden trunk; expectantly. Her pompom girl outfit was on top. She just looked at it, managed a bleak smile and then threw it aside. Tucked underneath were the precious books. She gently took them out and caressed the covers, one by one. Cathy didn't mind the dim light in the basement and started browsing them in search of a picture of her former schoolmate. The sight of all those young fresh, carefree, smiling faces, it really did something to her.

"Aha! Robert Ironside, there you are." The look in her eyes grew more tender." Gee! Bob. You look so serious," she remarked.

As she continued to search the books for some more material she stumbled across a picture of the entire football team, taken the year they won the championship. There he was, standing the third from the right. "This time at least you're smiling," she noticed. "True we never really were ... close friends. I guess even then you were already a bit too serious for my taste," Cathy giggled.

For a while she looked at the snapshot then let the book sink into her lap and dreamily staring in front of her sighed, "I wonder how you cope with it, Bob? You were such an energetic guy. And now ... a wheelchair." She shuddered as she recalled how, only hours before, she had stood there staring, stupidly, at his paralyzed legs. She swallowed, "Oh gee ..., it ... it must be terrible to be unable to move. It's ..., it feels like so unfair." Talking aloud to herself Cathy shook her head, and realized she was again pitying him."For God's sake, stop it! Why are you doing this? Does he really look like someone who wants to be pitied? Hell no!"

She finally raised herself up with difficulty, as she had pins and needles in her legs having remained kneeling too long in the knelt position, and put the books back in the trunk.

"Pffffff ..., time to get yourself together," she said, gently tapping her cheeks.

Having firmly decided, for once, to do something good in her life, she climbed the seven steps out of the basement, headed for the living room and started making some calls. The night was halfway past and Cathy knew she would have no trouble reaching the people she had in mind. They too were part of the Las Vegas nightlife and almost never went to bed before dawn.

Even though Cathy didn't obtain all the information she had secretly hoped for she was rather satisfied. Having placed those phone calls might have seemed of no importance to most people but for her it meant a first step towards a more responsible life.

After that she allowed herself some rest. She lay down on her bed, fully clothed as she wanted to be immediately ready. Just ..., just in ... case...

It was a phone call that woke Cathy up. She stumbled to the phone, half asleep. "Hee ...lllooo...."

"Hi, Cathy! It's me. Jeff! Did I wake you? "

"Yes. I mean ... uh, noooooo..." she yawned. "What time is it anywayyyyaaaaahhhhh?"

"Well, way past noon. On my watch it's exactly 1:37 pm. I'm sorry if I woke you. Shall I call back later?"

"No, no! I ..., aaaaoohhhhhh ..., do you have news for me?" she asked, scratching her head.

"I heard about what happened yesterday evening. By the way, ain't that the place where your friend stays?"

"Yes, it is."

"Knowing the Chief's reputation I guess he soon found out someone died in front of the hotel?"

"Oh, he did, Jeff, he did. In fact I got back there just in time to prevent him from getting into a clash with good ol' Charley."

"Charley! Charley Meaks? Wooow, Mr. Nice Guy in person" Jeff exclaimed." And ...?"

"What have you got for me, Jeff?" Cathy changed subject.

"The girl who died yesterday. She worked for Pete Goldham, but that you probably already knew. So ...I think, ah ..., the following might be interesting. She was spotted earlier yesterday evening having dinner with an elderly man, just like that girl a couple of weeks ago. Remember?"

A silence followed. "Cathy? Hellooo ..., are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry ... I was thinking. Strange indeed. Mmmm ... yes, you're right. The first girl also worked for Pete. Makes me wonder if there could be a link?"

"If there's one I don't see which one right now but then... uh ... that's where _he_ could help, don't you think?" Jeff suggested.

"Yes, Jeff. That's where he could help," a smiling Cathy replied without hesitation.

* * *

As the day grew older, Ironside grew more impatient. What the heck was he doing here listening to a total stranger enumerating and unfortunately also mixing up, numbers, facts, novelties you name it, and on top of that with an awfully soporific voice. For the last hour the Chief hadn't stopped looking at his watch. When the speaker finally invited his audience to take a short break, a sigh of relief emerged from the assembly and the chief decided he had had it. "Stay if you want," he said to Ed and Eve. "Mark! I would appreciate it if you got me out of here."

"Finally, Chief. I thought you'd never ask. Back to the hotel?" It was obvious Mark too was happy to leave. "Did the dude really know what he's talking about?" Mark asked as he quickly walked with the Chief towards the exit and their car.

"Why do you think I wanted to get out of there? Ironside grumbled while he maneuvered his chair close to the passenger front seat.

"Well ..., hmm ..., let's see ..., I can think of a number of reasons. How about one called ..., Cathy, huh, Chief?"

A little smile showed on the Chief's face. It was the best possible answer. "Driver! To the hotel" He said.

Back at the hotel Ironside insisted "Let's find out if there's a message, Mark"

"From Cathy, Chief?"

"You know from who." he sounded irritated in response to Mark's teasing but it was obvious Ironside really hoped there was something for him.

As the two men neared the reception they saw how the desk clerk automatically picked their key. "Room _517_. Here you are gentlemen."

Mark couldn't conceal some admiration as he received the key."You know everyone's room number by heart?"

The young hotel employee blushed slightly. "You see, um..., Cathy is my friend and I..., I was on duty when she stopped by to ask for your room yesterday evening. And ...,huh ..., someone in a wheelchair does not really go unnoticed, huh, huh," he coughed. A nervous cough as he felt embarrased saying that. "Sorry, sir."

"That's alright." Ironside waved away the remark. "Do you by any chance have ... "

"Oooohhh, yes, sure. The message!" He quickly took it out of his pocket. "Cathy ordered me to guard it with my life," he now laughed as he handed the note to the Chief.

"What does it say, Chief?" Mark prompted him.

"Not much, Mark. She's left her phone number and ..." he stopped talking as he noticed Officer Charley entering the lobby. Charley peered around, saw the Chief and Mark and started to head their way, though the Chief put him off looking back at him; hard. The officer flashed a smirk and finally disappeared in one of the elevators. Ironside observed that it stopped and remained halted on the first floor; most certainly meaning Charley was to meet someone there.

Danny who had witnessed the whole scene thought it his duty to warn Cathy's friends to watch out for Charley. He looked around to make sure no one saw him leave his desk and quickly headed towards the Chief. He bent over to Ironside and counseled with a low voice "Beware of that officer, sir. He's no good. He loves to hurt people."

Ironside smiled at the young man. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind. Oh! Young man...! Is there anything special on the first floor?"

"No, not really. That is ..., except for the office of Mr. Goldham, the casino manager."

"Mmmm, I see. Well, thanks a lot." The Chief then looked at Mark who got the message.

"Room _517_, sir?" Mark invited with a deep bow.

An amused nod was the answer.

As soon as they got back to their room Ironside asked Mark to order them something to drink. "After all the crap I had to listen to. I really need something to swallow it. And I'm sure, Mark, that goes for you too."

He wheeled over to the window and had to admit Catherine was right when she had noticed, the night before, that he had a lovely view from up there. He started loosening his tie and sat relaxed, until ... the phone rang. "I'll get it!" The chief already headed towards the nearby standing phone. "Ironside!"

"Please hold, sir, I have a call for you. I put through."

"Hello, Bob!" With her deep, hoarse voice, she didn't need identify herself.

"Good afternoon, Catherine. I got your message and was about to call you but ..."

"Danny, called to tell me you were in," she interrupted, "I hope you don't mind he took that liberty?"

"I do not. What have you got for me?"

"You're sure you still want to get involved, Bob?"

"Let me be the judge, whether yes or no we have something here."

"It's not much but ..., uh, it appears both girls had an appointment with an elderly man prior to their death. They were seen having dinner with him."

"The same man, twice?"

"That I do not know. At least not yet. But I do know both girls worked in the same casino. The one on the ground level of your hotel. And ... I learned that the manager is not afraid to use some on his female staff to do... um ..., how shall I put it. Well, to do ... a... let's say ... a little escorting."

"The manager? Mr. Goldham?" Ironside remembered the name.

"Yes. You know him?" Cathy asked most surprised.

"No. But someone recently mentioned his name and I know he has a visitor right now. Your friend, Charley has gone up to see him." Ironside replied.

"Charley!" Her voice broke and she coughed hard before continuing, "You're sure ,Bob?"

"Positive."

"Then it's better we do not meet again in the hotel. I do not want Charley to know you're not a stranger to me. He does confide in me and I want to keep it that way a little longer. What do you think, Bob?"

"Indeed it might be better if you try to remain his friend as long as possible. You know a place where we can meet undisturbed?"

"Let's see. Mm..., no,no ..., uh ... aha, mmmm, yes, that's it. I think I found it. Yes, that should do it. It's a little restaurant down my street and thus away from the center. It's run by a nice couple. I'm sure you'll like them. I've know them ever since I moved to that area and I can assure you that I've never seen anyone over there I didn't want to meet, if you see what I mean. Well, Bob, what do you think?"

"Sounds fine to me. How about tonight? You give me the address and we'll be there. Let's say around eight? Unless of course you have other obligations?"

"No!" She said resolved. "The rest can wait." Cathy dictated the address.

"We'll be there. Eight o'clock sharp." the Chief promised and advised her to try not to arouse suspicion around her by asking too many questions.

"You heard Mark? Eight o'clock."

Mark looked at him. "You're incredible, Chief. We were only supposed to attend a conference. Remember? What's the Commissioner going to say when he discovers you've been playing robbers and cops in Vegas?"

"Robbers and cops, Mark? Mmm... I'm more accustomed to cops and robbers but …, I quite like your way of putting it. I sure must remember this one. Cheers, Mark!" Ironside toasted, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.


	10. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

After the Chief had left the conference, Ed and Eve finally decided to follow his example. They felt they had better things to do right now. Talking to people had always proved to be a rewarding approach, worth the effort and time spent and so they chose to pay a visit to some of the many gambling halls

But what where they looking for? As the Chief had said there was no reason yet to let anyone conclude a crime had been committed. Maybe it was simply an act of despair. Though they knew, they sensed that there had to be something else.

First thing to do was to listen to the gossip. Unfortunately they soon discovered that Vegas being what it was only few people seemed shocked by what had happened. Many hadn't even heard about it and others simply hunched their shoulder. They should have known. After all, this was Sin City : kingdom of indifference.

"Shall we split up, Ed? Maybe some people might talk more easily to a woman alone." Eve suggested. "I take this side of the road and you the other."

"I guess we have no other choice if at least we want to come up with something. Ok. then. Two hours from now back in the lobby of our hotel." Ed proposed, looking at his watch. "Good luck, Eve!"

Ed decided to choose at random where to enter. He strolled amidst the slots but rapidly learned it was wasted energy. This was déjà-vu. Punters who wouldn't lift a finger if someone next to them dropped dead. Still hopeful, he walked towards the classical games where dealers of flesh and blood skillfully juggled with the color and value chips. He made a few attempts to engage in a conversation but it was all in vain. People here were, unfortunately for Ed, made of the same stuff as the one armed bandit addicts. "Hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing" a dictum that ruled in master over this army of game enslaved marionettes.

"I should have remembered my lesson. Damned fools. Same bunch of dummies we already encountered yesterday evening." Ed grumbled as he shuffled out utterly disappointed, hoping

Eve had been luckier.

Exactly two hours after they had split up Ed arrived at the hotel. He was mad at himself and paced up and down in front of the lobby waiting for Eve.

How was it possible he had made such an error? He was convinced daytime gamblers would have proven to be much more responsible people than the ones who populated the Las Vegas nights. What a disillusion.

He looked at his watch. "What's keeping you, Eve?" Knowing how punctual she usually was he preferred to interpret it as a good sign.

Only seconds later a cab stopped a few feet from the entrance and Eve got out. "Ed, oohooo!" She was waving at him as he turned around. He briskly walked over to her. "And ..., any luck?"

"Maybe, Ed, maybe. Let's go up and see the Chief. I think he will be interested by what I was told."

"By the way, how come you showed up by cab?"

"I had to go out of my way to see someone on the other side of town."

"The other side of town, Eve? I hope it was worth it?"

"Mmmm. It was. Kind off." Eve answered flashing a little smile. "Now! Shall we, Ed?"

Eve knocked, "Mark! ... It's us!"

"Aha! There you are. Finally! You really stayed till the end? Very courageous, I must admit," the Chief joked as he turned away from the window and wheeled over to them.

"To be very honest, Chief, we also left soon after you did. We thought we'd give you a hand."

"Kind of you, Ed. But ...give me hand with what. There's nothing concre…"

"I may have discovered something, Chief" Eve intervened, hoping he would be pleased.

"My eavesdropping paid off. A loose-lipped female dealer filled me in on the gossip and she even went on beyond my expectations."

"Now don't you two get excited. Remember what we came for: a conference. And there still is no reason at all to conclude a crime has been committed." Ironside tried to cool their enthusiasm.

"Wait until you hear what I uncovered, Chief. The dealer, she gave me an address. It was almost on the other side of town but … it was worth it. You'll see," Eve added; hardly able to conceal her satisfaction? "I had a very interesting conversation with an elderly lady. She told me about a certain ... Goldberg, no ...," She snapped her fingers, " It was something with Gold ..."

Maybe ..., Goldham!" Ironside suggested.

"Yes, Chief ..., Goldham it is." Eve paused; surprised. "You know him?"

"Somebody mentioned him to me earlier today. Now, Eve," he hunched forward, "What about him? You tickled my curiosity."

Eve threw, Ed a little triumphant look.

"It might mean nothing but it seems that a few years ago, this Mr. Goldham, forced some young ladies into relationships with customers. It came to an abrupt end when one of the girls was brutally murdered." Eve observed the three men as a silence installed. No doubt, she had captured their attention.

"Murdered!" they repeated in chorus.

"Yes. And this lady insisted heavily on the fact that it was definitely murder. Though no one was ever arrested, let alone brought to justice. Incredible, isn't it, Chief?"

"Hmmmmm …., how can that be? You're sure, Eve? Did you feel she was trustworthy?"

"A hundred percent, Chief. She was excited at the idea someone finally showed new interest in this strange case. She told her story as if it happened only last week."

"That could mean there actually might be reason to believe that yesterday's mishap was after all not just an accident. Interesting." The Chief looked at his colleges and noticed how they already expected him to give instructions.

"No …, no…," he sighed after a few seconds, shaking his head. "That just isn't enough to go on." And returned to his observation post at the window.

Astonished, Ed, Eve and Mark watched him sit there, simply looking out of that window, obviously with his thoughts miles away. That was not what they had expected.

Eve joined him first and sat down on the windowsill like Cathy the night before. "But, Chief …, you haven't heard the rest of the story yet. There really is more to it and I can assure you that you'll find it most surprising."

He looked up at her, "Why didn't you say so right away? Come on, Eve. Don't make me wait now. What more can there be for you to tell me?" he continued in his usual grouchy style.

Mark and Ed exchanged a quick glance. That was more like the Chief. Without hesitation Ed grabbed a chair and went over to sit next to his boss while Mark settled at the foot end of the nearby bed. The team reunited, eager to hear what Eve still had to say.

Anyone entering the room at this point could have sworn those four were up to something.

"We're listening, Eve."

"At that particular time this lady used to run a boarding house. Many newcomers ended up at her place because it was quite cheap and had a good reputation. She felt she was a little like a surrogate mother for many of the youngsters. They easily confided in her and …"

" Skip the details." A clearly impatient Ironside ordered. "Stick to the facts. For the moment that's all we need: facts."

"Fact is, Chief that some girls were used to charm the customers. Tempt them to prolong their stay and thus spend more money. All benefit for the casino. This _modus operandi _was a public secret. No one did anything to stop it, until …that girl got killed."

"Facts, Eve! Facts! Come to the point."

"I'm coming to it, Chief. It was a brutal murder. She was stabbed at least a dozen times. The weapon was never found and …

"There had to be other clues, Eve."

"There most certainly were, Chief, if hadn't it been for the guy who uncovered the body."

"What do you mean?"

"Well …, they attributed it to him being in a state of total panic. First of all his fingerprints. They were on every possible object belonging to the victim. Also he must have run up and down that alley several times, presumably in search of help. He totally disturbed the scene, almost completely erasing all other traces with his own footprints."

"Oh boy! That Samaritan really knew how to mess up things, huh, Chief?"

"He sure did, Mark. But at the same time it raises the question as to whether he did it on purpose or was it really due to a panic reaction?"

" Well, there were a couple of presumed suspects, including the young man who stumbled upon the corpse, but in the end no one was arrested, and …, it never made it to court. That's about it, Chief." Eve said clearly satisfied.

"It's no surprise it never got to court, if you ask me," Ed joined in. "With such a heap of non – evidence the first the best lawyer would have gotten his client off in no time. Puff ..., you said it, Mark: what a mess. There's no better word for it."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"To me it's crystal clear," Ed reformulated his opinion, "No evidence, no condemnation."

Surprised, Ironside swiveled in his chair to face his Sergeant. "This is not like you, Ed. You've accustomed me to more perseverance and stubbornness."

"True. But this case is none of our concern, Chief. And that's how we should keep it."

"Which was exactly my intention until I heard Eve's account. Amateurs at work. Pure amateurism," he growled. " And _that_ is something I can't stand whether it's in San Francisco or here in Las Vegas."

"Amateurs. No evidence …, and what else?" Ironside was talking to himself shaking his head in disbelief while again looking out the window.

The other three realized this strange story had caught his attention beyond a point where he could, or better, would not longer be able to ignore it.

" Look!" he finally said, turning his chair away from the window, "I'm scheduled to meet Catherine tonight for dinner. She should be able to tell me more. Meanwhile I suggest you two enjoy your evening and we'll consider later."

"I think, Ed and I should try to find more information?" an eager Eve suggested.

"No, Eve. I appreciate the offer but with the little we know we're bound to waste our energy."

"The Chief is right, Eve, and I continue to believe we should leave this whole matter to the local authorities. Come on! Let us find a nice little restaurant for tonight. My treat."


	11. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10_

He knocked. Two short quick taps and again.

Pete recognized the signal and hurried to let his visitor in. "Did anybody see you?" he asked nervously, quickly sticking his head outside, looking left and right; just to make sure.

An authoritarian, "No!" was the answer.

"It's better no one knows." Pete said closing the door.

"Exactly my idea" the visitor agreed as he sat down on the couch, crossed his legs and lit a cigarette. "Well, Pete! Yesterday evening, nice spectacle, huh?"

"You're kidding, man! It …, it …, it was …, just …, just awful!" Pete stammered, shocked by what he heard. " You can't be serious?"

The man grinned at Pete. "Yeah! I knew you'd throw me that look. Sheer disgust. Mmmmm ... how I love that." He enjoyed watching his host's growing horror punctuated by an explicit silence.

"Ooohhh … cut it, Pete. I saw you through a long time ago. Admit it. You really don't give a shit about that poor girl. All you can think about right now is how to save your ass." he added, ice cold.

Pete couldn't hide his indignation. "I don't think that's funny, Officer Meaks."

He knew Charley was a heartless, insensitive bastard with a sick tendency towards enjoying hurting people. On top of that Charley never hesitated to clearly demonstrate that unhealthy satisfaction in the face of his chosen victim.

"Ssssss, hush! Listen!"Charley suddenly said, his hand behind his ear

Pete listened carefully. "I …, I can't hear anything." was his nervous reaction. "What is it?"

Charley was jubilant. It was so easy to rattle Pete. He now roared with laughter as he noticed Pete's annoyed expression. "Well, man! What has become of your sense of humor? Oh, yes...," he grinned, I see... you only appreciate your own weird jokes."

"Can you just quit it and be serious for a moment." a cranky, fidgety Pete threw at him.

"By the way are you absolutely sure you don't have any enemies, my dear Pete? People who would like to make you pay for all the money they lost? I'm sure there must be lots of them." Inquiringly he looked at Pete. Dark menacing eyes that gave you shivers.

"In fact I'm the one who's awaiting an explanation." was Pete's only answer. "Weren't you supposed to keep an eye on those girls?"

He pushed on a little as he noticed Charley's hesitation. "Well! What do you have to say?"

"Nothing! I didn't let them out of my sight until they said goodbye to their appointment. That's all there is to it. What they did afterward was no longer my business. Satisfied?"

"You should have made it your business. It might have prevented their ending up dead."

"Oh, that's cheap. Whose brilliant idea was it to resume with this, _customer entertaining_?

Have you already forgotten the fatal outcome of your earlier experience with this kind of tricky business? It seems so to me, huh, Pete? So don't go blaming me. I fulfilled my duty. Period."

Pete realized how much he actually needed Charley, and decided to swallow his pride and opt for another approach. This was certainly not the moment to set this valuable ally up against him.

"Ok, ok, I'm sure you kept a close eye on my ladies. However I would greatly appreciate it, officer, if you would use your wit and expertise to help uncover the truth."

He tried to boost Charley's ego with some flattering remarks. That never hurt and it seemed to work as the officer finally seemed to mellow his defensive attitude.

" Hmmm …, yes ..., you're right. Unfortunately I don't have the faintest idea as to what happened but right now I can assure you, that trouble is awaiting us."

"What do you mean?" Pete reacted anxiously.

"I smell trouble. And the origin of it is staying right under your nose, Pete. You know me. My instincts have rarely betrayed me."

Eyes wide, Pete summoned his visitor to be a little more explicit.

Charley put his cigaret out and hunched forward. He spoke with a low voice what made him look even more like a conspirator. " There is a guy in your hotel who appears to be very nosy as to what happened. Yesterday he tried to get a bit to close to the scene and today he sent his boy up onto the roof."

"His boy?"

"Yeah, a boy. Oh, you know. A Negro. The man I'm talking about is in a wheelchair and that Negro is always with him. I know for sure that today he sent him up to the roof, just to snoop around a little."

"Ha..., aha, ahaaahahaha …, Officer Charley Meaks, a terror, ahaha ..., in the Las Vegas force, afraid of a cripple, ouaahahah …, and …, and his aide. Waaouuaahaha … , that's the best I've heard today."

Infuriated, Charley, pointing a warning finger, threw at him, "You wouldn't make so much fun if you had met the guy. The way he looks at you. The tone he uses. He sure isn't the poor helpless cripple you imagine. That, uh …, giant on wheels is real trouble, Pete. I tell you; real trouble."

Pete shook his head in disbelief. "Aren't you getting a little paranoid? Couldn't it be that the poor guy is just looking for some excitement in his ... miserable life. Oh, Charley, Charley! Can't you for once, just once, show some compassion. Just imagine …, life must be dull when you're stuck in a wheelchair."

Charley leaned backwards and crossed his arms."My dear, Pete. You're so naive, so sensitive. One day," he predicted, "that 'll cost you."

"Ok, lets say I believe you, even though it doesn't seem very likely to me that this man is capable of the evil you accredit him with." Pete shook his head in total disbelief. "Oh, and then what? You know my philosophy, Charley. Black, yellow, cripple …, as long as they come here to lay down their money. Remember? Just …"

"Yeah, yeah! Alright, Pete. I remember your favorite line:_ Just suck 'em out." _Charley looked at him cross eyed. "What a sublime expression. A most outstanding example of the refined manners of a respected casino manager."

Pete took this unexpected, disapproving remark very personally and felt truly offended.

Charley noticed. "Poor, Pete. Does the truth hurt?"

"Why don't we stick to what should be our first priority? Let's concentrate on how you can make sure this affair doesn't become a glaring headline. That, and I insist, that alone is what we should be focusing our attention on, isn't it my dear, Charley?"

"Have I ever deceived you, or let you down before? No, I did not. Never, ever. Why would it be different now?"

"But …, you said it yourself. That man …, the cripple …, the one you suspect of … "

Charley raised his hand and ranted, "Stop! Stop that god damned moaning. That cripple …, that's my business! And for God's sake don't you go taking him on yourself. I know how to handle that kind of wiseguy."

With a sigh he raised to his feet. "I better go now. Don't call me. I call you," he ordered.

Without paying any further attention to Pete he started for the door while straightening his uniform in a way that left no doubt to it. Charley Meaks wore it proudly and his imposing stature did the rest.


	12. Chapter 11

_Chapter 11_

_First I would like to thank my handful of faithful fans for their patience. I still don't manage to update on a regular base though I must admit I have learned from a couple of mistakes I made ever since I started this story ( I won't tell you what these mistakes are ;-) ) So I hope you'll still enjoy the rest of this fic until the final word._

_Mom ..., have a wonderful journey._

The clock ticked away time at its usual pace. As the afternoon progressed Cathy grew more impatient. The minute hand moved exasperatingly slow towards 7 o'clock. She was too impatient to sit still and decided to go wait for him where they were scheduled to meet an hour later. The small restaurant being just a few steps from where she lived it was hardly ten past seven when she pushed the door open. Only a few older people, local residents, were already having a meal.

"You're early, love!" came a jovial voice from a few feet away. "I wasn't expecting you so soon. 8 o'clock it was, wasn't it? Or did I get it wrong?" a middle aged lady asked as she stepped from behind the bar and warmly embraced Catherine.

"No, no, it's me, Francesca. I'm much too early but I had to get out of the house."

Knowing Catherine as one of her dear regular customers, Francesca smiled. "I got you the table over there." She pointed towards a table hidden from the indiscrete eyes of the ones passing by, and who always needed to furtively peep inside.

"Perfect !" Cathy confirmed. Looking from the table towards the door she nodded with satisfaction as she murmured, " And easily accessible."

"Why don't you keep me company while you wait for your guests? What shall it be? The usual red wine?" Francesca asked, reaching for the wine bottle.

"No, not this time. Get me ...mmmm a …, a coffee."

"Uh … Ok! One coffee ... coming." Francesca replied with a little hesitation and a hard to disguise look of disbelief. "Are you feeling alright, love? I've never seen you so nervous before an appointment. Must be someone special." she rattled on, hoping Cathy would tell her. But apart from a timid smile Catherine remained dumb. She tried to suppress a slight blush that uncovered on her usually grayish cheeks.

Francesca observed her from the corner of her eyes. Was this the same Cathy who came to dinner once or twice a week? Hard to believe ... and still …

"... that's when I easily won over $ 5000 on roulette." Francesca said trying to catch her friends attention. No reaction. "I said, love …, that I won the fabulous amount of $ 8000 playing roulette."

"Whhhaaatt?" Cathy asked reluctantly taking her eyes of the entrance door finally looking Francesca's way. "Did you say something?"

Francesca sighed and shook her head "Never mind! I was only joking. It's obvious you' re miles away from here. I wonder what your guest looks like. Seeing the state he got you in he must be … "

But Cathy no longer listened. Through the window she had just spotted Mark and the Chief pass by. She jumped from the barstool and hurried to keep the door open.

"Good evening, Bob …, Mark. I see you had no trouble finding this place. Please, come in. This way. Francesca got us a quiet table over there." She was all nerves again.

"And I who thought we'd be here first and wait for you."Ironside said. Then, pointing his thumb towards Mark behind him, "He absolutely wanted to take the left turn even though I told him twice to turn right."

"Oh, now it's my fault. Who said we had plenty of time left? We got here in time didn't we. What are you complaining, again? Next time ... , you drive" Mark retorted.

Amused, Cathy watched the two man squabble.

Even though no one present paid them any particular attention Catherine had the impression they all stared their way. "Oh, sorry ..." She hurried to remove one of the four chairs at the table. "I …, ah, I, I forgot." her unique, little feminine voice cracked with nerves and the timid smile she flashed only emphasized how uncomfortable she felt.

The Chief gave Mark a meaningful look who returned it in response.

"You're sure you closed the car, Mark?"

"Closed? Huh ...? Yeah, sure I closed it! Oh, I get it. Well …, I'll better take a look or you'll be whining about it all evening long."

"Well! What are you waiting for?"

"I'm already gone!" Mark responded as he started heading for the door.

Ironside turned to Cathy, who surprised by this new comical act she just witnessed hadn't bothered yet to take a seat. He reached for the chair her hands rested on an shoved it back a little, inviting her to sit.

"First shall I order us something to drink?"

"No!" It sounded like an order. "First thing, we need to talk about this."

The authoritarian tone had made her sit down and she now almost whispered, "Talk! Talk ...about what? I don't get it."

He paused a few seconds as he looked her straight in the eyes. His persistent gaze troubled her even more and though she forced herself to withstand it she knew she'd be the first to back down. And so happened.

Her eyes riveted onto the napkin, "Shoot! What is there you want to tell me, or ask me?"

She heard him take a deep breath.

"Everyone was convinced I bought it when I took that slug. But I survived. A small miracle some said. Sure. I'm in this chair today but …, I'm also thankful and ..., happy to be alive." Ironside continued to look straight at her, "Stop it! Please, Catherine. Stop it! Stop feeling sorry for me. Can you just do that? Please?"

Ashamed and at the same time surprised he knew she mumbled, "Is it so obvious? I... uh, I … I try. God is my witness. But …, oh gee, Bob, it hurts. It hurts so bad to see you like this," she said as she grabbed his hand and squeezed I tight. A tear sought its path down the many wrinkles of her face.

Surprised by her emotional response his voice was soft as he suggested she look at it from another angle. "I could already have been buried and forgotten. Would you've preferred that?"

Shocked she looked up with a jerk. "Oh, no! What are you imagining? Never did that cross my..."

Seeing Mark come back in Cathy didn't finish her phrase and hastily tried to recollect herself . Leaning over to Ironside she whispered, "If I do say things or act in a way you don't like just kick me." He looked at her. "Oh …," she put her hand on her mouth, "I didn't ..."

"Don't!" he hold his hand up, " That's better, Catherine. That's the spirit." And they both laughed.

Mark sat down opposite her "I see you haven't ordered anything yet, or is it self service? I don't know how about you, Chief, but I am thirsty."

Catherine motioned Francesca to bring them a bottle of wine and the took time to choose from the unexpectedly well furnished menu. This was not haute cuisine but good smells came from the kitchen every time that door swung open.

The meal took a rather pleasant turn and before they knew it it was way over ten pm.

"This was really nice." Ironside complimented Francesca as she brought them a another bottle. Satisfied he put down his napkin. "Time to move on to what is interesting us. What do you think, Catherine?"

"I already wondered when you were going to bring it up."

"A number of facts were brought to my attention this afternoon and I must admit they are quite puzzling."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that it would not be the first, nor the second time a young girl, working for Mr. Pete Goldham is murdered."

"Who told you that? It certainly wasn't me."

"You know that I'm not alone here, Catherine. The other people you furtively saw yesterday evening, they work for me. They're trained police officers. Do I need say more?"

"Still … it strikes me odd someone brought it up. And what's more, I'm even surprised someone … simply … remembered. After all those years. Who ?"

"You have no idea?"

"Not really, no."

"The girls' landlady. Do you by any chance know her?"

Cathy looked at him, admiringly. "You sure know how to dig up old stories. But in answer to your question. No. I do not know that lady. I might have met her at one time or another, but … that's it. I wish I could tell you more, Bob."

"I had hoped you could have helped me shed more light on the subject. To bad. Yet ... I feel there is somehow a connection between the recent events and this older crime."

"I really wish I could tell you more, but you know how it is …, not a day goes by without people getting killed here in Vegas. It's just one more brief bit of news." she said hunching her shoulders.

"Murder is a serious thing, Catherine. No one, ever, should consider it an inanity."

It was obvious Ironside was a little disappointed by the outcome of this otherwise rather pleasant rendezvous.

"Time to get back to the hotel. It's my treat," he said as he motioned Francesca to bring him the bill.

"Drinks are on the house, and I insist. How about one for the road?" Francesca asked, giving Catherine a meaningful look.

"No thanks, really!" Ironside declined the offer. "Mark! Ready?"

"Hey! But! Wait …! Oh, why didn't I think about it." Cathy said holding her head between both hands. "Sure, that's it. He'll know."

"Who'll know?"

"My friend ... Jeff! The journalist! He'll know." She continued to shake her head, frustrated she didn't think about it before. "Francesca! Can I use the phone?"

"Sure. Go ahead."

"Jeff? It's me again. We need your help. You're at the office?" she rattled on, not leaving him time to say a word. "Stay there. We'll be there in fifteen minutes." At that, Cathy put down the phone while on the other side of the line a bemused Jeff said, "Who? We?" and then looked astonished at the receiver as he had heard his caller hang up.

"Come on, Bob. Let's go see the eyes and ears of this town, and my friend; Jeff Berrenstein."


	13. Chapter 12

_Chapter 12._

"You're sure about this, Dave?" Jeff knit his brows as he was reading the rough draft he had just been handed.

"My informant is very credible. He has never put me on the wrong foot. Well ..., that is, not yet. And frankly, Jeff, I have absolutely no reason to doubt him. So what do you think?"

"Yeah! I think this could get a good response. Go ahead. Prepare the document and I'll see to it that it gets the proper attention."

Meanwhile, Jeff had noticed at the other side of the large newsroom, Cathy and her company walking towards his little personal office.

"Well, well ..., have you ever. Good old Cathy and the Chief in person." he mumbled with a smile on his face.

"Huh? What did you just say?" Dave asked looking up to Jeff.

"Don't pay attention to it. A bad habit. I was just talking to myself. Uh ...I trust that from here on you can manage without me. I … uh, I have some visitors to attend." Jeff said with a wink and hurried to his office. Jeff, he had his own tiny space. It was kind of a privilege given only the very best and Jeff was very, very good.

At the other end, Dave straightened up and peeped over the partition but saw nothing more then the back of a woman's head and a black man entering Jeff's office. Definitely no one he knew and within seconds, absorbed as he was by his article, he had forgotten about those strangers.

As he entered his office the journalist was greeted by Cathy with a very cheerful, "Hi, Jeff! Meet my friend, Robert T. Ironside."

"Very pleased, and honored to meet you, Chief." Jeff said as both men shook hands. "You are already a legend and so I thought Cathy was playing tricks on me when she came to see me yesterday evening. But here you are, the one and only. My, my this lady hasn't stopped surprising me."

Catherine blushed and looked proudly at her famous old school mate.

"Mark Sanger, my assistant." The Chief introduced his friend.

"Well, Jeff. I suppose …, I can call you Jeff? Let's not beat about the bush. Catherine thought you could provide us with some more information about those unsolved crimes involving the girls from Mr. Goldham. Now. Can you?"

"Well …, you sure plow straight ahead. Now let's see. It all depends. How much do you already know?"

"Enough to conclude something doesn't sound right. But on the other hand not enough to go on and that's why we're here to find out."

"Oh and, Jeff ! Bob also learned about Betty." Catherine stressed. "You remember, don't you? The whole mess with that girl who was stabbed in the alley."

"Betty? Let's see … Sure, Betty … mmm …yeah! Yes, yes, that's it. It rings a bell. But … that goes back at least four or five years." He looked at the Chief with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "Well, I'll be damned. You've been here for what? Twenty four hours? And you've already come up with something probably not one soul remembers."

"It was one of the people on my staff who deserves the credit for discovering this."

"Bob thinks there could be a link between what happened way back then and the recent events. So …, Jeff," Catherine pleaded, "everything you can dig up for us is welcome."

"Pooh! Uh… you'll have to give me a couple of hours to browse the newspaper reports and maybe get in touch with some people." He scratched his head." I'll see what I can do."

Jeff overheard Cathy say, "Didn't I tell you, Bob. He's the ears and eyes of Vegas." So he quickly added, "I, uh …, I don't promise you miracles."

"No, no, no Jeff. You won't let us down. Not now. What a scoop it would be if we could find out who's behind those atrocities. Don't you want to know?" Her eyes glittering with excitement.

"Sure, honey ! But ...still..." He shook his head as it was obvious he was primarily intrigued by this sudden interest for something that was almost trivial in Vegas.

"I wonder, Chief. Why would you want to get involved in this ... sordid affair? I suppose you're in Vegas for the conference?"

"You presume correctly. Meaning ... I only have three days. A young girl met her death in front of my hotel and a certain lady brought to my attention inconsistencies regarding earlier similar affairs. Does that answer your question about my curiosity and _secret _implication?"

"I'll be as quick as possible." Jeff acquiesced and turning to Catherine threw her a friendly hand kiss."Anything for my Cathy."

"Oh, how I'd love to chat with you, Chief but …, as I understand, time is money. So if you want me to help you to crack this case."

"We"re leaving. I appreciate the trouble you're taking in trying to help us. You can call me at my hotel, at any hour. Just ask for room _512._

"I'll get in touch with you as soon as possible."

"Thanks Jeff." Catherine whispered hoarsely.

"That's what friends are for, honey. Chief, if I come up with something worthwhile you grant me an interview. How about that?"

Never a fan of interviews Ironside hesitated for a moment but finally accepted. "On one condition," he added maliciously, "It doesn't make the front page. I don't want to give my Commissioner a reason to suspect I haven't attended the conference."

"Got it." Jeff laughed. " You've got yourself a deal, Chief." he repeated as he let his guests out.

"Didn't I tell you, Bob? Didn't I tell you that he would help us?" Cathy beamed with satisfaction as the three of them headed for the car. Though she quickly felt she was the only to show some enthusiasm. "Did I say something wrong, Bob?"

"Noooo ... you did not, but I'm afraid I can't share your optimism. I believe your friend will provide us with some information, probably useful but …, but … we'll need more than some newspaper clippings."

"Such as?" she asked while holding open the door on the passenger side. It cost her to put on a face of indifference as she watched him struggle to get into the car.

"Such as...?" Ironside stopped to take a deep breath. With an almost smooth, though demanding gesture he swung his hardly cooperative body onto the passenger seat and while hoisting his dead legs inside resumed, " Such as..., is there a connection between the victims or are they simply circumstantial victims? That for instance is already one crucial element, Catherine. One that could give us a lead about the direction our research should take."

"If you put it like this. Mm …, indeed …, it doesn't sound very good. Geee …, too bad." she lamented as her initial enthusiasm had now given way to disappointment. "I guess that concludes it for tonight?"

"Can we give you a lift?" Mark asked while he moved the chair to the rear of the car.

"No need. I'll walk back home. It's less then a couple of blocks from here and some fresh air will do me good. I'd love to invite you over to my place but it's better no one sees us together, huh, Bob?"

"Yes, right now it's better we continue pretending. Well..., Catherine, that's where we say goodnight. Thanks for a lovely meal. I truly enjoyed it. Don't you worry. I promise. If anything new and useful comes up I'll let you know first thing in the morning. I've got your number."

"First thing in the morning?" she exclaimed with a catch in her voice. "I'm a lady of the night, Bob. You can call me at any time."

"Don't count on it. Even a lady of the night needs to get some rest from time to time. First thing in the morning and not before." Ironside said and looked at her with a tender smile, beckoning her to close the door.

"Off we go, Mark."

Last thing she saw, as the car started moving, was him looking at her and articulating behind the car window "To-mo-row".


	14. Chapter 13

_Chapter 13_

"One moment please ..., I'm putting you through."

The phone hardly rang twice in room _512_. "Ironside!"

"Hello, Chief! It's me, Jeff! Hope I didn't wake you but …, since you said I could ..."

"I'm listening. What have you got for me?"

"Something that will interest you I think."

"You've got my undivided attention."

"It was not that late when you left so I took a chance and phoned a cop I know, in fact a longtime friend of mine. I coaxed him into giving me some fresh details about the Goldham girl."

"Yes..."

"Well ..., clues were gathered. You know ..., the usual stuff."

"Why do I feel there is a _but_?"

"Because …, I'm afraid …, there is. As unbelievable as it might seem these clues have again been declared, at least a great deal of them ..., useless."

"That's impossible!" A thunder came rolling through the phone

Jeff, was startled by Ironside's roar and remained silent for an instant. Then carefully tried to bring forward his opinion. "Looks as if someone came up behind the killer to mess up the indications left or, uh ..., should I say ... clean up the traces left. What do you think, Chief?"

"Like the first time," Ironside sighed; annoyed, "Same method. Definitely the same method."

"And my friend didn't sound too optimistic about the outcome of the investigation." Jeff still added.

"In short it simply means they won't dig any further."

"Exactly, Chief."

"Doesn't that seem odd to you? Three girls, all working for Mr. Goldham end up dead and no serious investigation is considered."

"This is Vegas, Chief. One dead person more or less, people are not going to lose any sleep over it."

"Well I'll be damned but I'm willing to. That indifference, it irritates me to the utmost. Damn!"

"Wow, wow, Chief!" Jeff tried to calm him, "It sure has got you upset.".

"Yes, matter–of–fact, it has." Ironside acquiesced. "You know what bothers me most? It's the bad image the Vegas force brings to all of us. And on top of that this town is hosting a conference promoting new and more reliable investigation techniques. Ridicule isn't it? But most of all profoundly sad I'd say."

Even through the silence Ironside's anger was perceptible

"Is there anything else you've dug up, Jeff?"

"Not yet, Chief, but I'm working on it. Well, until I find something else I guess I better let you go back to sleep."

Ironside grumbled affirmatively and wished Jeff a goodnight too. Robert Ironside slammed the receiver onto the phone making it jump up again and tumble to the ground. He grabbed at it and then cursed for it hung dangling on the far side of the night table out of his reach.

Mark who had sat up all the time, listening to Ironside's conversation over the phone, swiftly walked over to pick it up and put it back on the hook. "Well, the news sure has got you upset. Is it that bad? You care to tell me about it, Chief?"

Ironside beckoned for him to sit. Installed in the Chief's wheelchair Mark listened carefully, not interrupting.

"The way I figure it there is absolutely no connection between those girls but there seems to be one with that, uh ..., that Goldham guy, huh?"

"So it appears, Mark."

"Revenge, Chief? Looks like a good motive. Must be hundreds of people who feel they've been

cheated after losing all their money. So ..., yeah! Revenge is my best bet."

"Sure! But is that reason enough to go murdering these youngsters."

"They work for the man. They're the ones who operate on the tables. That's reason enough for a nut, I'd say."

"No, Mark. I'm afraid it's not that easy. Revenge it could be but not for the reason you suspect."

"A hitman, then?"

"Not necessarily but definitely someone with a well set up plan."

"You fancy a drink, Chief?" Mark asked as he pushed himself up out of the chair.

"No, no, thanks. Here ..., mmm …, give me a hand, will ya? " Ironside asked as he tried to turn over a little.

"Why not a cop?" Mark went on reasoning as he offered a helping arm to his boss. "He has every opportunity to tamper with the evidence."

"Maybe. However it is my hunch he will only do it as long as he has something to gain by it."

"That shouldn't be hard to prove. You heard what Catherine said. About half the town must be on the take or is easy to bribe."

"Yes. A tempting theory. Still …, no easier to prove I'm afraid. We need a motive, Mark. Once we get that: a motive, I guarantee you things will start rolling." the Chief added with an affirmative nod.

"But right now I suggest we leave the whole thing for what it is worth and try to get some sleep."

"And what if Ed and Eve come here with..."

"Goodnight, Mark!"

Mark flashed a little meaningful smile. The intonation. He recognised it all too well. Those words spoken by Robert T. Ironside simply meant what they meant. So Mark went over to his bed, turned off the light and quickly fell soundly asleep.

* * *

As usual at this hour of the night the bar was crowded and today was no exception to the rule.

"Is he in?" Catherine asked leaning over the bar.

"Yep! In the back. Usual table." The young man answered with a jerk of his head, while he went on shaking one of the famous cocktails, the place was renowned for.

"Thanks a lot, ha …ndso …some." Her voice broke down. With a discrete cough she did her best to hide that cracked, infirm voice of hers and blew him a kiss. It worked. She got a smile in return.

Cathy stretched to her toes to see the table. There he sat having a drink and chatting with one of the callgirls who was normally supposed to keep the customers company and make them spent more than intended.

Firmly decided to get some information she headed his way. As soon as he spotted her coming he sent the girl away and motioned his discretely present bodyguard to make sure they were not disturbed.

"Sure, Mr. Bertini." The well built man said before retiring to his observation post.

"Hello, Cathy! Long time no see."

"Good evening, Tony!" Catherine smiled affectionately.

"Please …, make yourself comfortable." He looked at her for a while; in silence.

"Stop it, Tony. You are going to make me blush."

"It's been a while since someone dared to call me Tony."

"I can't remember ever having called you otherwise. Is it a complaint?" she asked mockingly.

"No, carissima, Catharina." Reassuringly he put his hand on her arm. "But… you're the only one who can call me that," he added with a wink.

"Why do I have the feeling this is not exactly a social call?"

"How come you've always seen through me?" And without waiting for is reaction Cathy plowed straight ahead and started firing questions at him about the recent suspect deaths.

He listened. At first surprised, but then quickly with every new question his gaze became more severe and dark. Still he let her go on, astonished as he was by her unexpected performance.

Cathy suddenly stopped rattling on and looked at him inquiringly. His silence made her hesitate. Had she gone too far? "Why don't you say something?"

"You don't leave me a chance to get in a word." he said still staring at her incredulously. "And where does this sudden interest come from? Besides …, it's none of your business." The tone now was harsh. "Leave it up to the cops. It's their responsibility. They're the experts."

"Is that an order?"

"Oh, cara mia, no, certainly not. See it as an advice from a friend. I beg you do yourself a favor and forget about it."

"I can't Tony. Believe me. I can't. Not this time. Not if the police is again going to drop the whole case."

Bertini sat back to observe her. "What gives you the idea nothing will be done? You obviously already know more than you're willing to tell?"

Cathy felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She couldn't afford to blunder. Sure, Bertini had always been on her side and she wanted to keep it that way. He was not the kind of man you wished to have as your enemy. She had to play it with tact.

"I know as much as you do. Let's say it is just …, a wild guess, nothing more. These girls …, they're just not important enough…, huh, Tony?"

"You said it. No matter how sad there is absolutely nothing you can do. So I repeat, Catharina. Please, stay away from it!"

"I get it. But you see, Tony, I … I knew that last girl. She didn't deserve to die like that. For once in my life I want to do something good. You can understand that, don't you?" It was a heartfelt plea. She really wanted his blessing. At least it would make her feel better.

"Where does that sudden transformation come from? Who's behind this? Mamma mia, Catharina, Catharina!" He shook both hands at her disapprovingly and noticed she blushed slightly at his last question. "Aha! There is someone. Do I know him?"

"I …, uh …, I …, I really can't tell you right now, but I will … later." She noticed he was about to insist. "Later!" she repeated with a most convincing tone, looking him straight in the eye.

He seemed upset but then chuckled. "I know that once you've set your mind on something you are hard to stop. Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise, Tony. I promise."

"Now, is there really nothing you can tell me?" she insisted moving closer towards him.

He laughed heartily. "You're incorrigible." and clasped her to his heart.

"Sorry to insist, but it really is important you tell me anything you might know or suspect."

Bertini pushed her away. Anyone else he would at least have had thrown out for daring to defy him.

Yet, she was special, she had always been. So he swallowed his pride and if only to save appearances he lashed out at her but she looked back at him with such an innocence he finally burst into laughter.

"You're not gone let it go, aren't you? No matter what I can say or do." He emptied his glass of champaign and shook his head. "If it's that other guy who's leading you to do this " his eyes menacing "he better makes sure nothing happens to you, or..."

"Or what, Tony?"

"Nothing. Forget I said that."

Cathy again slided closer. "Anything you know Tony, anything, you can whisper it in my ear and no one will ever find out."

She was so convincingly obstinate that he finally let her share a little of what he suspected.

"Now …, do not make me regret I confided in you."

Cathy looked at her mobster friend and kissed him furtively before leaving his table.

He watched her walk away and when she was out of sight, Bertini called over his bodyguard. They exchanged a few words and then both men left the club, though once outside they headed in a different direction.


	15. Chapter 14

_A sincere apology to all those who wait patiently for the continuation of this story. This chapter was initially intended to be published a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately technical problems beyond our control prevented my beta, Carol, and me from getting in touch. I have too much respect for all the trouble she's been taking correcting my copies so far that I do not want to spoil it now by editing a non rectified chapter. Hence the delay. Thanks for remaining faithful_.

_Chapter 14_

There was in the distance that quite familiar soft squeaking sound. Then there was the running water. Was it rain? Yes, rain, what else?

Mark, eyes closed, yawned and tucked away a little deeper underneath the blanket. He loved the sound of rain. He always had. It was one of the very few good memories out of his childhood that he carried with him. He was about to doze again when something disturbed the relaxing drip, drip from the rain.

First there was that squeak then a bang and another one. It became more perceptible. He just couldn't figure out what it was and how it fitted into the picture of the falling rain. Still it didn't bother him, as it almost seemed complementary to the peaceful feeling generated by the water noise.

The penetrating shrill bell of a telephone made him wake up with a start. His heart was pounding fast as the awakening was brutal.

He sat up and looked around, still half in a haze. That's when Mark noticed a cursing Ironside maneuvering with difficulty out of the bathroom and head for the phone. It all began to fit. The water, the squeaking noise, the rumble.

"I thought you'd never wake up," a clearly irritated Ironside threw at him.

"A good morning to you too, Chief. I see you managed without me so why the complaaaiiiiinnnnnt ?" Mark yawned, stretching his arms.

An incomprehensible mumbling followed before the Chief reached the phone.

"Ironside!" he snarled.

"Uh …, good morning, Chief." He surely hadn't expected to hear Eve's clear, sweet voice.

Ed, whom had joined Eve for breakfast in her room on the seventh floor saw her jolt and whispered from a distance. "Bad night?"

"Seems like it," she confirmed holding her hand over the speaker.

"What did you say? Was that, Ed? I couldn't hear you?" Ironside insisted.

"Oh no, no it's nothing, Chief. Uh ..., yes ..., it's Ed. He just walked in," Eve answered treating a puffing Ed to a range of meaningful mimics. "I only called to find out if we should prepare to attend the conference or ..., maybe you have other plans for us?"

"At the tone of your voice I have no doubt you both are eager to join your colleagues and spend an exciting day listening to the same kind of mumbo jumbo they served us yesterday," Ironside grumbled. "But I'm afraid I will have to spoil it. We have work to do. My room. Half an hour from now." He hung up not awaiting her answer.

Seeing her look surprised at the phone, Ed sighed. "No conference today either, I presume? The Commissioner is not going to be happy when he finds out," he lamented while he took a bite from his sandwich and poured himself another cup of coffee.

"The Chief expects us in half an hour from now," Eve answered and the little smile she flashed took away Ed's last hope she'd be his ally in an ultimate effort to make the Chief change his mind.

"I guess this really doesn't leave us much choice," he sighed discontented. "But …so be it."

"You'll never make me believe you don't want to find out who's behind these so called accidents. Ed! What's become of your legendary passion for justice?"

"Must have left it in San Francisco," he mumbled sighing wearily.

"Oh, Ed! Come on. You know him. Once the Chief has set his mind on something, he's ..."

"Exactly, Eve and that's what frightens me. If only he hadn't met that woman. I'm receiving bad vibrations."

"Ed! … don't say that! You scare me."

"I'm sure she's the one who has dragged him into this," Ed kept on nagging. "And guess who's going to end up doing all the leg work?"

'Ed! Ed…, that's unfair." Eve threw at him.

"Yeah ..., yeah, I know …, I shouldn't have said that. It's not his fault he can't ..." .

"No it's not," Eve reproached him. "I'm sure he'd give anything to be able to do it himself."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to …" Ed didn't bother to finish his thought and tried another tack.

" Half an hour, huh, Eve? Mighty kind of him to leave us the time to enjoy our breakfast. Half an hour, Eve. Can you imagine? Normally he expects us to be there before the words are cold. Waoow, thirty minutes!" And they both burst with laughter.

The Chief had hardly put down the phone it rang again. This time Mark answered.

"Good morning. There is a call for Mr. Ironside. One moment please." A pleasant feminine voice announced.

"It's for you, Chief." Mark handed him the speaker.

"I've been waiting for your call. Is everything all right, Bob? Why haven't you called yet? I've been thinking all night long about how we can ..."

"Good morning, Catherine," Ironside interrupted her.

"Uh …, sorry. A good morning, Bob. I did not mean to be impolite. It is just that I am really completely absorbed by this thing. I'm all excited. Well …?" She waited impatiently for him to tell her.

"Well …, what …?"

"Tell me! Oh you sure must have something to tell me. Pleeaaasssssee… don't tease me."

"It's not a habit of mine to tease people." he affirmed. "All right. I did get a call from your friend, the reporter. Here's what he came up with." In his usual brief, strict to the point style, Ironside related to her what Jeff had told him late last night.

"Aha! I see. My turn, now, Bob," she moved on, impatient as she was to do her story. Cathy gave the Chief a concise report from her night on the town. Except for a few "aha's" and "mmm's" he didn't say a word; didn't even try to interject something. "Interesting, huh?" she enthusiastically ended her blow-by-blow account.

"It elucidates a few points," Ironside admitted.

"So, what do we do? Time to stop the bastard, I say. Let's hear it, Bob. I'm all ears."

"Well, first I'd like to put all things in order and see if we can organize something."

"I trust you to do just the right thing. I need to believe it's going to work," she sighed and added in passing, "I'm so happy, Bob, so happy to have met you again."

"No time for that now, Catherine. We need to focus on a more urgent matter. I have to hang up. My associates will be here any minute. And don't you worry, I'll call you back. So please …, stay put!"

Ironside had just hung up as he heard Ed and Eve enter.

With a simple "Ah, there you are," he greeted his friends. "We have work to do. And since time is not on our side we'll have to move fast."

"I suppose you already have a plan, Chief?"

"No, Eve, unfortunately I have not. All I know is that we'll have to provoke something and …, frankly …, I could do with a few suggestions." Ironside looked at Ed and then Eve. "Well …,come on …, don't make me wait, let's hear …!"

"Uh …, uh …, mm mm …, well …, euhhhhh!"

"Very interesting, Ed! Very revealing. How about you, Eve? Any ideas?"

She instantly put on a serious face but finally remained speechless like Ed.

"That was helpful!" Disappointed the Chief turned his chair around to emphasize his disarray.

"Face it, Chief! We have nothing. So many questions need an answer. Like, uh …, where do we start? Do we have a suspect? Is there …"

"Stop it, Ed! I know all that but I also happen to know just a little more than you suspect." All eyes focused on him.

"Did I trigger your curiosity? I bet I did," Ironside said without looking at his friends.

"You've got our undivided attention, Chief. Tell us. What do you know that we of course do not?" Eve prompted him.

"Well, for a start I can tell you that the owner of this compound, a Mr. Bertini, suspects his casino manager, the famous Mr. Goldham, to be the source of all this trouble. He believes that Goldham killed that girl five years ago, even though there was never enough proof for it. It was, still according to Bertini, probably an accident for he is almost sure she was Goldham's girlfriend."

The three of them looked at him in disbelief.

"Oh, come on, Chief. You can't be serious. An accident! With so many stab wounds. This Mr. Bertini, or whatever his name, has a strange sense of humor. And if I'd suspected one of my employees to be capable of murder I'd have at least thrown him out and would certainly make sure he's put away."

"Money, Ed. Money is the key. You don't get rid of someone who has proven to be a highly profitable asset for your business on the simple basis of an assumption. And do not forget that in this country people are innocent until proven guilty."

Ed didn't believe what he heard. "Assumption! Chief! Bertini believed the guy was guilty. I don't call that an assumption."

"Alright, Ed you made your point." Ironside was undeniably annoyed. "And that's why I tend to believe we are dealing with an avenger. If Bertini believed Goldham guilty it's highly probable so did someone else."

"OK, Chief. But …, still …, if I wanted to make Goldham pay I'd go after him," Ed affirmed. "Thus the question remains: why kill the girls? And why that five year gap if we're talking about revenge? I think we can rule out revenge."

"My mother always told me - _revenge is a dish best served cold,_" Eve observed calmly.

"Exactly, Eve. That's why I'm convinced we can't rule it out. It might even turn out to be our best guess."

"On the other hand ..., I think we are forgetting something," Eve continued "If I wanted to make someone pay or make him look guilty I'd make sure there were enough clues pointing in his direction. Though here we are dealing with an almost total absence of indications. Unusual and highly contradictory isn't it, Chief?"

Eve's analysis didn't miss its goal. For a while they looked at her in silence.

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about that, Chief," Eve joked as she felt she had made a point with her down to earth observation.

"Sure I have. It struck me also as very awkward. And no, I do not yet have an explanation for it."

Ironside grew fidgety. "This is leading us nowhere."

"Told you so," Ed mumbled though louder than intended. Ironside threw him a disapproving look.

An unusual tension was rising, becoming almost palpable. Seconds ticked away until police cars, three, four, five, sirens wailing, rushed past the hotel.

"Wouldn't you say this sounds like home?" Mark laughed.

"Yesssss! Unfortunately it does. Now …, let us remain positive." Ironside encouraged his friends.

"What do we know so far? Fact: three girls all working for Goldham end up dead. Fact: no hints or at least nothing that points in someone's direction. Fact: each time a different modus operandi."

"Which excludes that it's done by the same guy." Eve stated.

"Not necessarily, Eve. But it casts a serious doubt upon the assumption that each killing was premeditated. And I admit this and a few other things puzzle me the most."

"It sure doesn't make it any easier. Which encourages me to urge you once more, Chief, to stay out of it."

"Too late, Ed." Ironside finally admitted.

"Now, Chief. Wouldn't you say there is a lot of incongruence. First we assume there is revenge at stake which implies normally a lot of planning and then you say that maybe the killings were accidental." Eve looked at him "I admit …, you've lost me."

"Me too," Ed joined in.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Ironside sighed. "Now listen. Here's my theory and how I think we might be able to provoke something."

t.b.c.


	16. Chapter 15

_Chapter 15_

Catherine was pacing up and down the corridor in front of Goldham's office.

She had promised Ironside she would find someone suitable and above all willing to play the pigeon in the scheme they had talked about over the phone.

At first the Chief had refused but he quickly realized he didn't have much choice and had finally accepted that she would take care of it.

Cathy knew she would have to be very convincing. With the terrible images of the two-day-old tragedy still very fresh in his mind, Pete Goldham would not easily give in. Every time she heard the humming of the elevator, she froze, afraid someone would step out on the second floor and see her. She didn't want to be seen. She didn't know why. She just knew it was better if no one saw her there. And strangely enough, ever since she had left Bertini's club early this morning she had that strange sensation somebody was tailing her. Again she halted before Goldham's door and again she didn't have the courage to knock on it. What had she gotten herself into? She was on the verge of turning around for yet another stroll up and down that alley. However she resisted and raised her right hand ready to tap her knuckles on that door. "Brace up gal. You have talked yourself out of worse situations." Cathy encouraged herself. She closed her eyes, took a few deep, relaxing breaths and …, knocked.

"It's open! Come in!"

Catherine heard it loud and clear but didn't step inside.

Again, she heard the voice call out, only a little louder, "You can com' iiinnnnnnn! It's ooooopen!" Cathy smiled at Pete's southern accent and a few seconds later, she walked in with a cheerful "Hi there, Pete!"

"Cathy?"

It was obvious she was the last person he expected to see walk into his office at that time of the day.

"Something wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost," she joked. "It's only me."

Pete consulted his watch. "Did someone kick you out of bed? It's not even noon. A most unusual hour to see you up and out on the street and …well…" Almost admiringly he looked her up and down. "Let me say. Honey … ,you just look …, mmmm …, smashing. Yep ..., that's the word. Just smashing."

She opened her eyes wide with astonishment and blushed at this totally unexpected compliment.

"It's been quite a while, Cathy since you hopped in like this so … I suppose this is not a social call. You need something? Money?"

"Money! God no, Pete! Luckily that time is past. It's a … a …more delicate matter that brings me here," she said without looking at him but firmly decided to plow straight ahead. "I feel you are not going to like what I have to ask you, but … I want to be honest and its better we have your blessing … just in case." Cathy noticed how Pete's forehead wrinkled as he frowned. But his curiosity had undeniably been tickled

"What the heck does she want from me?" he thought. He was wary for surprises, especially after what had happened. Images from the bloody scene flashed through his mind. He shuddered involuntarily.

"I need. No …, I want your approval to have Sheila keep a wonderful decent young man company tonight for only a couple of hours. And I insist on decent." Pfff! she had said it in one breath. How would he react? She awaited some kind of verbal explosion. At least a tirade of insults. But nothing of the sort. He didn't say a word. He just kept on looking at her. Embarrassed by this unforeseen silence Cathy began to doubt the efficiency of her direct approach. What else could she do? No later then last week she would have turned her back on it all but then again …, that was last week.

"Well?" Still no reaction. "Helloooo! Pete!" She waved her hand in front of his face. Catherine raised her voice and called out his name again. Only it sounded more like a squeak, like a badly lubricated mechanism starting up.

"You need to have a doctor take a goooood look at that voice of yours, honey. Someday you'll open your mouth and nothin' s gonna come out anymore," Pete counseled as he finally came to life again. "Jesus, Cathy! Where have you been those past days? Don't tell me you've already forgotten about that bloody mess in front of my building." He shook his head unbelievingly and outraged by her request finally lashed out at her. "Sheila …! Keep company …! What the f …! Are you out of your mind? No waaaaayyy!"

Catherine though remained undisturbed and calmly tried to explain she absolutely needed Sheila whether he liked it or not. Meanwhile she again heard that encouraging little voice inside her head. You've promised Bob you could do it. Hold steady. Make it work. Don't let him see you're lost. You can do it. Be convincing.  
It was time to refine the approach. Time to discover how much she could still count on her seductive charms. "Look, Pete. I know that man. He's straight." Bending towards him she tried to whisper sensually in his ear. "He's rich. Very, very …, very rich. I promised him last week I'd find him a...

"Promised! They're my girls! My girls! I decide." Pete now yelled, beginning to turn red. "No one is doing anything of the sort without me giving the permission. Promised! And what else!"

Catherine straightened up at his outburst but didn't give in. "Time for an exception to that rule," she tried to argue laconically. "Anyway, I've asked Sheila and she has already accepted," she continued undisturbed, shutting up Pete. "I can't afford to disappoint my acquaintance. I just told you that he's rich. He's a big spender, Pete. And when I say big I mean, very big," she insisted heavily. "A potential customer with dollars. Lots of them green bills. And I'm not talking small cash."

_Dollars!_ Pete's attitude mellowed within the second. "That could eventually change everything, my dear, Cathy. You know how much my boss, Mr. Bertini is sensitive regarding that particular subject." The honeyed tone with which he said that. Even though she had known Pete ever since he arrived in Vegas never before had it struck her how treacherous he sounded. But that had nothing to do with it. It only mattered that he had risen to the bait.  
That Sheila's life could be in danger had instantly become of secondary importance to Pete. All he could think of was how he could make sure that the potential cash changed owners. He rubbed his hands at the prospect, beaming.

"Look! Uh …, I..., uh, I first need to talk it over with Bertini. After all he's my boss and I can't afford to upset him anymore."

This was something Catherine hadn't expected. A quick, reassuring reaction was required. "Why should you do that and leave him worried for nothing? I'll be around all the time. It's as if she was going out with me. In that case you wouldn't have to ask Bertini's permission. So why bother now? He doesn't have to know. Trust me, Pete. You know good old Cathy, " she added with a wink. "And besides …, that makes me think. You still owe me something," she said pointing an accusing finger at him. "Remember that time I took the blame for drunk driving. It cost me my license, and I spent the night in jail. All that for you. Time to show some gratitude, dear Pete." Cathy smiled at him, satisfied she had remembered; satisfied it had provided just that extra little pressure she so badly needed to make him accept.

"Alright! Alright! You win," he sighed.

Catherine felt this was the perfect moment to get out. No need to let him reconsider. "Well, thanks for your time, Pete. That's all I wanted to hear from you. From here on I'll arrange things directly with Sheila. I better leave you to your business and uh …, don't you worry …, I'll get her back to you in one piece."

She was about to leave his office as he called after her. "Catherine!" She froze, surprised by the cold, ordering tone and slowly turned to face him. "God forbid anything happens to her." For a moment their eyes met. His gaze; it was menacing. She knew right where she stood. Pete wasn't joking. Catherine managed to answer with a bleak smile and left. She didn't bother about the elevator and hurried down the stairs. She crossed the lobby, looking straight ahead, ignoring everything and everyone including Danny whom she vaguely heard, cheerfully wishing her a good day.

Finally ...! I'm Out! Cathy thought as she felt she might have passed out had she stayed one minute longer inside the compound. Her heart beating at the speed of a fast train she allowed herself a couple of minutes to compose herself and then headed for the nearest phone booth. She started dialing the number of the hotel she just left but hung up as she began reasoning I can't do that. I can't phone. Danny is at the desk. He'll recognize my voice. He just saw me walk out hardly five minutes ago. Damned! I need someone else to pass the message on to Bob."

She dialed the only other number she knew by heart. She let it ring for quite a while and was about to hang up when someone finally answered. "Jeff! It's me again. What kept you? I thought you weren't in."

"I was busy, Catherine. In case you've forgotten I'm responsible for everything that comes out of this redaction room. They're waiting for me, Cathy. Come on …, fill me in. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to call Bob for me and tell him I've succeeded. He'll understand. It's important, Jeff," she insisted as she felt his hesitation. "I'd do it myself but I have a good reason for not calling personally. Please, Jeff. Trust me. It's important he knows that it's done. Really, Jeff! He needs to know straight away. Please, please. Will you call him?"

"I said I would do whatever I could. So, yes, of course I'll call. Hey, Cathy and what do I tell him if he starts asking questions?"

"He won't. And ..., Jeff! You'll get the whole story once it's over. I'll hang up now so you can …"

"... make the call." Jeff finished the sentence. "OK! I got it, loud and clear. Bye, Cathy!" And he hung up.

So far, so good. Cathy sighed with relief. Utterly satisfied the first obstacle had been passed successfully, she had the impression nothing could go wrong now.

With a bounce in her walk she set off to go see Sheila.

Tbc.


	17. Chapter 16

_Hallelujah! I've finally managed to finish this chapter. The unusual long winter (it started early November and that's mostly uncommon in Belgium) slowed down all my energy. It felt as if I was nothing more then a hibernating mammal. I can only hope there are a few of you left who are eager to find out who did what. Chapter 17 will be almost certainly the final chapter. In the meantime enjoy this one._

_**Chapter 16**_

"Thank you Jeff." The Chief put down the phone. "It's done," he said turning to the others. "We're on. Time for the serious work."

A discrete smile showed on his face as he thought of Catherine. She had hidden talents.

Only a few hours earlier he had quite reluctantly accepted that she would take care of informing Goldham and finding someone willing to be the scapegoat. Now she had clearly proven him wrong in having doubts about her.

To the Chief and his team it was clear by now that Goldham, the casino manager, was not the perpetrator. But he was the one someone sought to incriminate and harm at any price. If they wanted to make their plan work it was basic Goldham knew about one of his female employees going out with a potential customer.

"But do not give any further explanation," Ironside had heavily insisted on.

It remained a wild guess whether the evening out would lead to any reaction. Nothing up to now proved that the suspicious deaths, after all, were not pure coincidence. Yet the Chief remained solidly convinced they were dealing with murder. His instinct and of course years of experience told him that he was right.

Eve had shown interest from the beginning and had been eager to assist. Ed on the contrary was obstinately reluctant. He had used every opportunity to express his opposition to getting involved. After a morning, spend imagining and planning, his negative attitude had hardly changed for the better.

When it had become obvious he was the perfect man for the situation, the cop in him had been modestly shaken awake. After all, taking a young woman out to dinner was far from unpleasant. I have done things far more dangerous, he thought. Nonetheless he remained hesitant and continued stubbornly to make that clear.

The conference had since long been forgotten. Eve, and the Chief, were in their element. This was what they had been trained for. It was in their blood. Wherever they went, San Francisco, Las Vegas, you name it, they took it along.

Around noon Eve was sent out to the restaurant that Catherine had indicated them. It was the place where the other girls were last seen before their unfortunate encounters with death.

"Have a drink at the bar," Ironside suggested. "Just take a peek around and then come back here."

"Isn't there time for a quick bite, Chief? I feel like it will make me less conspicuous."

"Yes, maybe you're right. Even though I feel everybody goes by unnoticed in this town. But ..., don't stay away too long."

"It's a promise. I'll be back before you even notice I was gone," Eve said with a big smile as she snatched her handbag on the way out.

"Let's recapitulate," Ironside suggested. "Ed! You're with me?"

"Sure. I'm all ears," Ed replied immediately even if it didn't sound convincing.

"As we have discussed it this morning there is one particular point we all agree on. It has to be someone close to Goldham or at least someone working in this building. Someone who has every opportunity to see and analyze what is going on. Agreed?" The Chief observed his sergeant who again seemed miles away.

"Am I boring you, Ed?"

"Huh?"

"I know you do not approve Ed but the least you can do is pretend," Ironside grumbled shifting in his chair.

Ed looked at him apologetically. "Can we at least order something to eat? I can't think straight with an empty belly."

"Mark! Call room service. Order us some sandwiches and …, coffee. Now ..., Ed…!

Can we go on?"

Ed didn't say a word. The answer was in his attitude.

Diverting his attention from his sergeant the Chief continued, "So…, so far we only know that on the previous occasions the supper was planned hardly a few hours before it actually took place. Thus …, leaving almost no time to anyone to prepare a mischief. The customer met his date in the lobby. And …, what's so typical about a lobby?"

"There are always people on the floor."

"Exactly Mark. It's never deserted."

"I don't see how this will help us. To me it's more like a little more confusion being added to an already complicated situation." Ed was unable to hide his discontent. At that precise moment room service brought them the ordered sandwiches. This interuption saved Ed from another, Ironside brewed, acerbic reproach.

The Chief took a deep breath and swallowed the reprimand as Ed, taking a bite from a savory sandwich, offered one to his boss. "It hasn't occurred to you that while so many people stroll through that lobby there are also those who are there all the time, simply because it's the place where they work." Ironside stipulated with a remarkable control.

"So?"

"Ed! It should be obvious. It means it's the best place to observe without arousing suspicion."

"Mmm …" swallowing his bite, "yes …, yes, you're probably right. It almost certainly could be a staff member or a regular visitor." Ed wiped his mouth and allowed himself another sandwich.

"From my point of view Ed, there is a very high probability that that is where the solution lies. I've looked at it from every possible angle and each time it has led me to this conclusion. So, when you meet with your so called date in the lobby, later today, make sure you are being noticed."

"And then what?"

"And then what?" Ironside repeated the question "Damned, Ed! Use your brain. Do not overdo it. Just act normal but be sure people have noticed your presence and most important of all that of your date. And …, pray it works." the Chief added irritated by his sergeant's disinterested attitude.

"Chief, we're presuming we have to deal with a man. What if it was a woman we should be looking for?" Two pair of eyes focused on Mark. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No Mark, you did not. OK …, let us assume it could be a woman. Still …, I think it improbable."

"Why, Chief? I've seen many women, alone, walk in and out of this hotel. Apart for some gorgeous ones walking by no one pays them any particular attention. It is an option we should not neglect. Don't you think?"

"You're referring to Catherine?" Ironside retorted with an audible touch of anger.

"No Chief. Did you hear me say that? I'm just trying to emphasize that it is a possibility."

Ironside didn't answer, as he had to agree that Mark had indeed made a point. He had always presumed they were looking for a man and maybe, just maybe, that was a mistake.

"Man or woman, what's the difference? Why bother?" Ed remarked. "To me …, it's just a detail."

The Chief rallied himself to the presumption that it probably was indeed just a detail. Moreover, now there was not much more they could except, wait for Eve to return.

She showed up, earlier than expected. Her report was brief. She gave them nothing more than a concise description of the restaurant.

It was classy. The decoration was sober and testified of a careful research for authenticity. A respectable distance between the tables avoided eavesdropping. On the other hand, it was rather easy to observe one another, as the rectangular room wasn't stuffed with huge plants or any other ornaments.

"Well, that hasn't made us much wiser. I hope at least you enjoyed your meal, Eve?" Ironside added clearly a little disappointed. He had secretly hoped for Eve to come back with a more helpful account. Yet he was satisfied that Catherine had convinced him to set up the meeting at that particular restaurant. It was now up to Ed to convince as the rich punter.

"Let's cross fingers and hope it will attract our man." Ironside sighed.

"Or woman." Ed uttered looking the other way.

"Yes Ed! Or woman. Too bad we absolutely have no idea when and where he …, or she," the Chief added throwing a rapid glance at Ed, "will show up. If …, if someone shows up."

"I think this is about all the planning we can do. The rest …" he sighed again," well…, unfortunately is not within our power to foresee. Thus, I guess that rather then stay here to watch the seconds tick away you'll prefer to do something meaningful for the time remaining. I will not keep you any longer."

"Maybe we could plan a quick stop at the conference. What do you think Ed? "

He threw her a look and shook his head. "Ah, ah, no way Eve. Not me. But if you are so keen I'm not withholding you."

How about you, Chief? Where will you be?"

"Right here, Eve. I don't plan on going anywhere," he said and while he wheeled back to his observation post near the window he reminded them a last time "Be back around six!"

"You can count on us, Chief. We'll be back as agreed!" Eve called out reassuringly before she closed the door behind her.

As he sat and contemplated the view of a city that was not his he felt doubt arising. He eagerly wanted to be left alone for a while and prompted Mark to go for a walk too. He succeeded but not without trouble. Sometimes Mark's devotion tended towards being overprotective and this Ironside could hardly withstand. Only a short while after Mark had left the Chief turned away from his observation post. He hesitated a little, consulted his watch and moved towards the door. He halted and refrained from opening it, reversed his chair and wheeled back towards the window. Something was bothering him but he could not put his finger on it. With a forceful pull on the left wheel, he swung his chair around a 180°, got back to the door opened it and left room _512_.

Softly the elevator came to a halt and its door opened onto the ground floor. Four elderly women all dressed up, bragging about their infallible system to win at the roulette, stepped out followed by an amused Chief.

At this hour of the day, the lobby lay surprisingly calm. No customers at the desk to check in or out. The clerk on duty, was reading the newspaper. He seemed so absorbed by what he was reading that he had not even raised his eyes when the elevator had spit out the quartette of loudly cackling elderly.

Slowly the Chief moved further into the lobby, looking around. Should he find himself a place in that cozy corner opposite the desk and pick up a paper, or head for the bar and post himself at that table near the entrance to observe from behind a drink? He wavered a few seconds. Then gave in to the tempting prospect of an excellent glass of Bourbon.

"_Monsieur est_ _connaisseur,_" the bartender complimented the Chief as he observed him meticulously peer at the wide range of bourbon bottles.

" You're French ?" Ironside asked without diverting his eyes from the inviting bottles.

"Canadian. But my mother was French. Maybe I can help you make a choice?"

"I'll have a Van Winckle …, an old Rip Van Winkle …, Handmade."

"Excellent choice, sir," the middle aged man said as he delicately poured the warm red gold colored liquid and automatically put the glass on the bar in front of the Chief. "Here you are sir."

Ironside looked at the glass, then smiled at the bartender. "Would you be kind enough to bring it to my table? I'll be over there," he motioned with a sign of the head as he slowly moved his chair backwards.

"Uh …, but of course, sir." The man quickly stepped from behind his bar. "Sorry you had to ask. I should have offered it myself. You see…, I'm so used to almost never step from behind this bar that I tend to think we're like Siamese twins." he added with a wink and a hearty laugh.

Ironside was clearly amused by the man's original excuse. He had very subtly avoided the trap of those all too frequently used embarrassing, futile, if not right out hurting apologies.

"Enjoy!" the bartender said as he gently posed the glass on the table and turned to walk away.

"Oh! Just one moment," the Chief withheld the man, "Reassure me …, it's not always quiet like this?"

Inquiringly he looked at the Chief. "You seem truly troubled by it. Then pointing his finger, "Aha …, let me guess. You plan to invest in the business. Excellent idea if you ask me," he rattled on undisturbed.

Totally surprised Ironside looked at the man wide – eyed.

A discrete smile began to show on the bartender's face and soon his contagious laugh rolled through the bar and into the still unusual deserted lobby.

"You seemed so frustrated to be my only customer I couldn't resist a little joke." A pair of laughing eyes clearly awaited some reaction from the Chief.

Ironside grinned. "Well …, you sure had me fooled and according to your reaction I can only assume this quietude is exceptional."

"It most certainly is sir. If you stay just a little longer you'll be able to see for yourself. Within half an hour this place will be crowded."

Ironside didn't react.

"My instinct tells me I haven't convinced you yet. How about another drink on me if my prediction turns out to be a lie? His twinkling eyes focusing the Chief.

"That's an offer I can't refuse. You've got yourself a deal," Ironside nodded and lifted his glass at the man. "Cheers" he toasted and forced a smile onto his face.

T.b.c.


	18. Chapter 17

_Chapter 17_

There she stood. As soon as he stepped out of the elevator, Ed spotted his date. Amidst a throng of people, she had stuck out. Sheila was tall and slender, just as Catherine had described her to the Chief. If anyone had said she made her living as a mannequin none would have questioned it.

For an instant, Ed kept on looking at her from a distance. I feel this could be a most enjoyable evening after all, he thought.

As he closed in on her, he noticed how the royal blue two-piece she wore highlighted her lovely face. As understood, she was browsing a woman's weekly and from time to time looked up and around, expectantly.

Sheila was nervous, that much was sure even though she tried to hide it to the best of her ability. The knot in her stomach grew tighter as she noticed the big hand dangerously approach seven.

"He's quite handsome and pleasant company too. You will see it will be a memorable evening. You won't regret you ever accepted." Catherine's words lingered in her head.

Sheila recalled how earlier that day she had been on the verge of walking out of Catherine's place but something had withheld her. She had always been of a curious nature and her spontaneity often had made her accept without further thinking. However, this time it felt like she had been very reckless, down to the point of putting her own life at risk.

Now, standing there surrounded by tens of strange faces all of whom she felt were observing her she gasped for breath.

Imagining all kinds of scenarios simply drove her mad. Her tension was rising with the second. Calm down, she kept repeating to herself, just calm down. That was easier said than done and made things only worse and she was on the verge of running out of the lobby when…

"Good evening. I'm Ed." A friendly face smiled reassuringly at her. "You must be Sheila."

"Uuuhh!" She dropped the magazine.

"Oh! Sorry …, I didn't mean to frighten you," Ed apologized while picking up the weekly.

"No, no." Sheila replied. "It's me…, I was so absorbed by the article I didn't see you coming."

"Interesting?"

"What?"

"The article?"

"Oh, that… naaa ..., women's stuff. No nothing really that interesting." Sheila stuffed the magazine in her handbag meanwhile trying to compose herself. She took a deep audible breath, mechanically straightened up her skirt and now looked Ed straight in the eyes.

"Well …, I'm ready. Shall we?" she proposed. The timid smile she flashed was contradictory to the energetic way she put her arm around Ed's, ready to leave the compound.

Ed had not expected such a straightforward approach. He was a little stunned and was about to forget he had been instructed to make absolutely sure they were being noticed. Flattered by the pleasant, good looking and quite self- assured blonde holding his arm he started walking with her towards the entrance.

"Come on Ed …, do something. Make people look your way. Come on man…" Mark murmured as he and the Chief observed Ed and the girl from a distance.

"Chief! Look! They …, they're about to leave and no one has noticed them. What's he doing? That's not what was planned. "

"That's what I was a little afraid off, and that's why you and I are he…"

"…ere. Got it, Chief" Mark added with a twinkle and hurried over to where Ed and Sheila had been standing.

"Hey! You! Yes …, you, over there. Yeah…, you man!" Mark called aloud. Some people already looked around to what the fuss was all about and whose attention the caller was trying to attract. "Do not think you can walk away from it like that," Mark continued, sounding genuinely mad.

More and more people turned their head towards Mark, their eyes following him as he energetically crossed the lobby with a menacing finger pointing towards Ed.

Ed recognized Mark's voice and instantly realized his mistake. He turned slowly around acting honestly surprised and spotted the Chief at the other side of the lobby.

Sheila too looked wide-eyed at the nearing man. "You know him?" she whispered at Ed.

"No. I don't think so." Ed affirmed and waited for Mark to close in on him. Before Mark could utter a sound, Ed looking hard at him shut him up with authority. "That's enough. What the heck? What is this all about? What gives you the right to call after people like this? And by the way …, do I know you?" The tone was harsh and disapproving. Sheila was impressed.

Mark played his role to the perfection. A lot of people, customers and staff had noticed Ed and the lovely girl at his side. There was no need for him to add anything more. Mark backed down and stuttered a few awkwardly formulated apologies such as having taken Ed for someone else. With his head bowed Mark hurried towards the nearest elevator. All he wanted was to get out of there, get away from the disapproving looks but above all get out making sure it was not _his_ face that was remembered.

"Well, I who thought this would be a nice, tranquil evening out. For a start. Not bad …, huh?" Ed petted Sheila's hand as she was still firmly holding on to his arm. "Now …, shall we?"

"I'm ready. Surprise me," Sheila retorted with a big smile.

The Chief watched them walk out. So far so good, he thought while he meticulously kept on scrutinizing the people present in the lobby. If anyone acted suspiciously they all did. In other words everything seemed normal. Ironside realized he could stay there and still learn nothing more so he wisely chose to return to his room for a while. He felt confident. Sheila was in good hands with Ed. Eve was on stakeout, as was Catherine; but that the others didn't know.

Ironside returned to his room and discovered a nervous Mark. He hurried to close the door behind his boss.

"What now, Chief?"

"Sit and wait," Ironside replied without looking at his friend.

"Chief! You really expect something will happen?"

"Frankly, Mark…, I don't have the faintest idea but _if_ something is going on here …, and _if_ we manage to prove it, well …, at least it will make this trip look a little less a waste of time and money."

Mark realized there was no point in pursuing the guessing and questioning.

He kicked off his shoes and hopped onto his bed with the racing car magazine he had picked up in the lobby earlier that day.

As for the Chief, again he installed himself at the window. Within seconds room _512_ became still except for the faint sound of pages being turned.

The minutes ticked away. It was around 10:30 pm when Ironside finaly turned away from the window.

"Mark! Time for me to go down. Remember what we agreed on. You stay here until you get my call."

"You really don't want me to come with you. I'd prefer to..."

"No, Mark. We talked it over. I'll be just fine and besides …, I myself can't go where I'm sending you. So, please let's stick to the plan. Wait here for my call and...,uh, don't you worry I won't let you freeze to death up there," Ironside added with a wink as he wheeled past Mark on his way out.

He went down to the cozy bar hoping to find free the table he'd occupied that afternoon. It was perfectly situated. He was lucky. He installed himself and this time ordered a coffee.

The Chief thought he was quite early. Yet hardly 20 minutes later he spotted Catherine entering the lobby. She had been waiting in her car outside the garage. Following the plan she would, once she had seen Ed and Sheila drive down to the garage, enter the lobby and act as if she was looking for someone. For a second the Chief's eyes met hers and then she quickly diverted her gaze. She rested and took the time to redo her lip gloss. That was the sign. Ironside sighed reassured. Ed and Sheila had entered the building.

Ironside was expecting to see the couple show up in the lobby within short notice. It was time to warn Mark. He headed for the reception and asked them to put him through with room _512._

"Mark!"

"They're in. You know what to do. Get up there and stay there no matter how long it takes."

"But, Chief? How will I know when …?"

"Just stay there!" Ironside ordered and put down the receiver.

Meanwhile Ed had driven the car into the garage. The evening had been very pleasant with Sheila being a surprisingly entertaining discussion partner. She almost made Ed forget to be on his guard but so far nothing unusual had occurred. It comforted him in his belief that the Chief had too easily let himself embark into a wild goose chase.

The garage lay unusually still and deserted.

Ed stopped the engine and looked at Sheila who spontaneously smiled back at him. She beamed.

"I'm so pleased to have met you, Ed. This was a most charming, interesting evening. Is there any chance I will ever see you again?" she asked, her eyes hopeful.

"I doubt it. Although one should never say never. Isn't it?"

"This means goodbye than," Sheila sighed disappointed. She quickly leaned over and gave Ed a furtive kiss on the cheek. "Oh, Ed …, you're blushing."

Ed smiled a little abashed. For a second he thought about taking her in his arms but finally got out of the car and hurried over to the passenger side. Gentleman as he was he reached for her hand to help her out when …

"Aaaaahhhh! …, Edddd !" Sheila shrieked as she saw him sink onto his knees grabbing the back of his head and then pass out completely.

Anxiously she looked up to see who else was there, who had done this. Great was her surprise.

"Hurry! Hurry! Get out, Sheila! It's not safe. Believe me. Pleeeaaassssssse Sheila! Please love …, get out!"

She kept on gazing at the man, whom strangely enough she knew, and remained in the car, startled. The newcomer snatched her hand and with an amazing force pulled her to her feet and started dragging her with him.

"But, but, but …, stopppp! What have you done? Ed! … He's hurt. Stop ! He needs help," Sheila cried out struggling, trying to free herself from the man's firm grip.

"No time for that. Come on!" He pulled her further away. "He'll be alright. I didn't strike that hard. I'm sorry, Sheila. You're satisfied?"

She continued looking towards where Ed lay while the other carried on pulling her behind him.

Somewhere in the garage a door slammed close.

Tbc.

_Last time I thought I could finish the story with just one more chapter but that was a mistake._ _This might please some of you. But rest assured the end is in sight_.


	19. Chapter 18

_Chapter 18_

The echo of the closed door lingered on and bounced from wall to wall before silence took over again.

Somewhere in a remote place in the garage the stranger pricked up his ears while he tempted to talk sense into Sheila.

"I know it's hard to believe but all I am trying to do is make sure you do not fall into that maniac's hands. I just want to stop him from making any other victims." Pleading her to trust him he firmly held both her hands in his, "He's crazy Sheila. He really is."

No longer was her heart in her throat. He didn't seem that dangerous after all. What she read in his eyes was honesty but also tenderness and determination. Something deep inside her told her she could really trust the young lad whom in the end was also to her no stranger.

"But ..., why? Why Danny? And in God's name who are you talking about?" she begged. "You just can't drag me along like that. First knock out that poor man and then leave me ignorant."

"You know my name?"

"Sure. Hard to ignore when you know Cathy. She tells me over and over how much she likes you, and that she would have loved to have a son like you. And by the way you too you know my name."

"I see." He blushed slightly at the compliment. Then beckoned her to hush while he nervously looked around.

"Listen, Sheila. It's a long story. Right now there is no time to bog down into details. Now let's get out of here before..."

"I'm not going anywhere." She leaned against the wall her arms crossed and looked him in the eye inquiringly, awaiting further explanation. "First you tell me and then..."

"Ssssssss...," he put his hand on her mouth. "Hush, honey …, ssssss! He's already here. I can feel it. Damn!"

In the dark garage Danny tried to distinguish what he thought was someone sneaking up on them.

" Mmmppss ..., you're mmm…, scarin'…, me" she tried to say but he pressed his hand harder on her mouth.

Again Danny signed her to shut up. "Did you hear that?" he whispered.

She shook her head and desperately mumbled, "mmnooommmpphh."

He turned his head towards where he thought the noise came from and Sheila finally managed to get his hand of her mouth. She sighed relieved and rubbed her jaw.

"Now stop it. You're paranoid. I didn't and still don't hear anything. Right now _**I **_am getting out of here." She stressed. "You're giving me the creeps Danny. You should let someone have a good look at you."

Boldly she went to pick up her handbag she had dropped to the floor a few yards away.

She was taken a little aback when she noiced in the dark a reflection on a pair of shiny shoes. Sheila swallowed.

She slowly came upright, turned to face Danny and mimicking with her eyes tried to make him understand that there was indeed someone out there watching them.

It cost her not to take to her heels.

Again anguish took over when she saw the expression on Danny's face change. He no longer looked the self assured young man determined to save her from whatever evil was lying in wait. Fright was in his eyes, and a feeble but insistent tremor around the right corner of his mouth appeared.

* * *

In the lobby the Chief tried to keep his cool. Eve was right. Ed and Sheila should have come up out of the garage by now.

And Catherine? Where was Catherine? What kept her? It had been agreed on that she too after a while would re-enter the building and stay in retreat at the bar.

"Come on Ed show yourself." Ironside mumbled louder then intended.

"Something is wrong Chief. I'm going to find out what is keeping them" Eve said with resolve and started for the elevator.

"No, you stay here. Eve! That's an order. You hear me! You..., stay…, here!"

The tone. The punctuation. Eve halted. Sighed in resignation…, then turned around to face him.

"You are going nowhere young lady."

The expression on his face spoke volumes and Eve swallowed whatever she was about to object. She knew him all too well. This was one of those moments where no one could deter him from doing whatever his stubborn nature dictated him to do, regardless of the fact that he was glued to that damned wheelchair.

"I repeat, officer Whitfield! You stay here. I want you to be around just in case they do come up after all."

Having said that he grabbed his wheels and with a vigorous tug started rolling towards the elevator.

Though she so much wanted to catch the handles on that chair to stop him and make him come to his senses, Eve simply watched him go by. She knew she'd never forgive herself if anything happened to him. Nevertheless she did nothing and let him disappear into the elevator. Only when she noticed the elevator had stopped at minus two did she take her eyes of the flickering floor numbering.

" Oh Ed …, please, please... show yourself," Eve prayed.

Ironside had barely left the elevator at minus two when the doors swung closed behind him and in this unusual, oppressed silence of the garage he distinctly heard it go up. He gave his eyes a few seconds to adapt to the duskiness and then slowly moved further into this uninviting space. It stood in glaring contrast to the above-ground part of the hotel. To be precise it almost seemed to date much further back than the grand glamorous building and was at first probably intended to be used for storage rather than a garage.

As he progressed he thought for a second that he heard people talk. He couldn't make out anything from it. Probably other hotel guests, Ironside reasoned.

He was now only a few yards away from where he remembered Mark had left the car yesterday evening. Convinced Ed would have automatically parked it again on the same spot he confidently moved on and turned left.

Yes, there it stood. Closing in on it Ironside noticed that the door on the passenger side stood wide open. Intrigued and worried he called out his sergeant's name. "Ed?"

No answer came. That sure didn't predict much good.

A cold chill ran down his spine when he wheeled around the trunk of the car and discovered ... Ed, face down on the cold, grease stained floor.

"Ed! Ed!..." Holding on to the right armrest of his chair Ironside bent over and reached in search of a pulse on Ed's throat. Thank God, there it was. He gently put his hand on Ed's shoulder and shook him but got no reaction. "Damn it!" the Chief hissed between his teeth as he straightened up and moved away from the car. Ed would keep a bump on the head but seemed alright otherwise.

Ironside slowly made a 360° turn with his chair, attentively observing the surroundings. That's when he noticed it again. He definitely heard people talk in the distance. He was not alone in the garage. He tried to determine where it came from. As he carefully moved further into the direction of the noise the voices became more distinct.

Meanwhile in that other corner of the garage the hidden observer had stepped forward.

Sheila let out a sigh of relief " Waaooow …, oooh geeee …, Officer! You scared the hell out of us. Didn't he Danny?" she insisted without looking at the young man and went on, "Boy am I glad to see you. It's Officer …?" She stepped closer to read the name on the uniform. "Officer Meaks."

"Charley Meaks," he presented himself and turning towards Sheila, "Charley …, for the ladies."

Danny grabbed the back of her jacket and withheld her from getting closer to the cop.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let go of me. It's the police Danny. We're safe now." Sheila insisted, pulling lose from his hold.

"Is this young man giving you a hard time, honey?" With a touch of sarcasm in his voice Charley stepped nearer; impressive, authoritarian.

Obstinately Danny again grabbed at Sheila's vest forcing her to take a step backwards. She wasn't stupid and quickly realized Danny didn't do this without a good reason. But she liked to think it was due to the fact that he was so uptight this evening that he automatically distrusted everyone.

"I'm OK Officer. Just a little lovers' quarrel going on here. Isn't it sweetheart?" At this Sheila, quite naturally, put her arm around Danny's neck and gave him a quick kiss. No reaction. Stunned by his lethargy she looked him in the eye hoping it would get him out of the doldrums.

He still didn't move. Danny remained dumb. Sheila realized she had to come up with something, had to act and quick.

"We'll be alright. No need to worry about us, Officer. We do not want to keep you away from a more important business, huh honey?" She squeezed his hand real hard and intensified her grip until Danny finally let out a feeble, "a ouch!"

This seemed to do it. He pulled her further towards him and stepped forwards trying to shield her from the policeman.

Charley watched it all, amused. His person inspired fear in the young lad, that much he was sure of and that's what he enjoyed above all. Though Danny's unusual fearful behavior alerted him. This kid seemed to know things. Charley couldn't afford that. He had to find out just what he knew and how much he knew.

For a while the three kept on observing each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.

Danny knew he had to act but he just couldn't think straight, and no solution seemed at hand.

He was lost. Should he confront Charley or not? And what about Sheila? He couldn't risk it to see her get hurt. She was an innocent by-stander.

Yet if overtly accusing Charley was very risky it was the only reaction he could think of. Sheila would be his witness and maybe, just maybe it would be enough to scare Charley and make him go away.

Danny plowed straight ahead. "I know what you did five years ago. I also know Meaks is not your real name. I ...I know that your mobster uncle send you to South America …, until things cooled down over here. You …, you …, you killed her!" he shouted, "murderer, murderer!"

Charley was so surprised by this outburst that he didn't expect to see Danny step closer and take a swing at him. A surprisingly powerful blow of Danny's fist hit him on the jaw. It almost threw him of balance.

Danny looked at Charley with despise and prepared to strike again. Charley of course had foreseen this. He grabbed the young man's wrist and without any effort on his part had Danny on his knees within seconds.

"And now big shot? Shall I break it for you?" Charley twisted Danny's arm a little more.

The youngster only grimaced.

"Well…? What shall it be? What did you say? I didn't hear you!" Charley snapped and pulled a little harder.

The pain was now so intense that Danny feared to pass out.

"Aauuwwww …" he moaned "Please, ple…, please don't …, don't break it.. aauuww."

Charley still didn't loosen his grip and Sheila watched in awe how much the officer enjoyed inducing the pain. She couldn't stand it any longer.

"Let him loose!" she yelled. "Let go of him! He just begged you! What more do you want? Get your hands off of him!"

Charley didn't give in and stood there grinning as he looked down upon Danny. The young man remained still for the slightest movements send intensive sharp pains to his shoulder.

That smug grin on the officer's face. It made her sick. She jumped on him and started punching him with all her might. It had no effect. With one hand he got her off his back and threw her onto the ground. Meanwhile he continued holding Danny down. That vicious smile on his face grew larger with the second. Sheila crawled to her feet and this time put her teeth into Charley's hand. It worked. He let Danny loose.

"You bitch!" Charley rubbed his painful hand where Sheila's teeth had left an impressive mark.

His eyes wild he slapped her so forcefully she fell backwards and hit her head against the wall.

Danny was in so much pain he hadn't had enough time to recover the use of his manhandled arm. Before he could get to his feet or do something Charley gripped him by the collar, dragged him in between some parked cars a few feet away and cuffed the lad to the handle of a brand new Chevy.

He bent down towards his now helpless victim and whispered in his ear, "I'll be back for you later, lover boy. I have another more pleasurable business to attend to first."

Danny pulled hard upon the cuffs. He kicked and struggled in a vain effort to set himself free and called out for Sheila, whom he couldn't see from where he was "Run, Sheila …, runnn …, and get oouut !"

Charley laughed and laughed at a fulminating Danny. Charley couldn't resist to belt the defenseless lad. Then without a word he turned away and walked over to where Sheila sat; still groggy.

* * *

Outside the building, on the other side of the road, Catherine's car still stood parked a little in retreat. Catherine however she was nowhere in sight.

She was mad at herself. Why hadn't she seen it coming? How on earth could she have been so blind all those years? She had always known he was no good. But Charley always behaved so self assured and acted so proud as a policeman only a few suspected his real nature. He was corrupt, a shrewd manipulator. And last but not least a sadistic bastard.

"Somebody ! Let me ooouuuuutttttttttt! Help !" She tapped forcefully with her fists upon the cover of the trunk. "Help! Anybody ! Help! Charllleeyyyy! Damn yooouuuuu! I'll make you pay !" she shouted.

Anger, frustration was building up as she began to realize that where she had parked her car not that many people walked by. She was about to explode and in the end so finally did her sick voice. Her cry for help now reduced to a mere murmur. Panic was taking over.

Why on earth had she needed to go open that trunk to put away her coat instead of returning to the hotel as Ironside had insisted on? But then again that was no excuse for what Charley did to her. That's no way to treat a lady, Cathy said to herself. With a new resolve she resumed the tapping and started kicking the metal cover with her feet to compensate for the lacking cry for help. Someone is bound to hear this; she encouraged herself and continued her vigorous hammering.

It seemed an eternity since Charley had locked her up in the trunk of her car. Despite she found herself in this most uncomfortable situation she managed a smile as it occurred to her she was lucky not to be claustrophobic. But soon panic took over again and in an ultimate effort to be heard she finally managed a"helllluuuupppppp !" After that it was all over. She repeatedly opened her mouth trying again to call out for that so badly needed help. She was horrified by the result. Except for some odd peeping no other sound escaped no matter how hard she tried.

Thinking that if no one could hear her she might suffocate to death in that trunk she resumed her wild tapping while a few tears started rolling down her cheeks.

Catherine began to despair when suddenly …, a cracking sound …, and the trunk sprung open.

Someone shone his torch into her face. She blinked her eyes.

"And…? Happy to see me I bet!" Her savior helped her out. "Well Cathy, lost your tongue?" he insisted.

She tried to speak but only a whisper of air escaped from her mouth. Hastily she made clear her voice had completely deserted her. That's when she recognized Bertini's bodyguard Toby. "Oh …, it's you!" she articulated slowly.

"You should be happy to see me. Happy Mr. Bertini told me to keep an eye on you as he expected you were up to something. Now if you'd rather have had me leave you in that trunk just ..."

Cathy threw herself around his neck and hugged him gratefully.

"I supose this means thank you?" Toby looked at her with a naughty twinckle in his eyes.

Catherine nodded affirmatively. She then grabbed him by the arm and looked at him while again clearly articulating "Come with me. I feel I will need your help."

"OK. I'm coming. Mr. Bertini wouldn't want it otherwise. Still I wonder what you're up to."

* * *

Eve paced up and down the lobby.

Earlier that evening the Chief had vaguely mentioned Catherine. Eve wondered what her role in all this was. And why did the Chief seem troubled when she didn't show up again? It truly puzzled her.

Eve consulted her watch. Pouah! Hardly one minute had gone by since she last looked at it.

Each time the elevator doors slid open she expected, she hoped to see Ed, the girl and the Chief. It was all in vain.

And where was Catherine? What on earth kept her? Though Eve wasn't very sure she would recognize her. She had only seen the woman for a few seconds on the night of their arrival.

Maybe she was around after all. There …, wasn't that her? Eve got a little closer to the woman a few feet in front of her. No. Too young.

She knew she had to keep her cool but with the minutes ticking away it was easier said than done.

Thats when she noticed a woman with a huge man in her trail enter the lobby and immediately start nervously looking around. They were defenitely in search of someone.

Eve moved closer towards them . Yes, yes that was her, that was Catherine. Relieved she had recognized the woman who had made that blitz appearance at the restaurant on the evening of their arrival.

"Catherine ! Catherine!" Eve called out. She had captured their attention and signaled them to come her way.

"Where's Bob?" Catherine managed to whisper, while motioning her voice had given in. "And ... She...la, a..dd the po..li.. ma...n." The stress made her again completely mute. It was enough to drive her mad.

"Calm down, please!" Eve tried to counsel. " And ..., who are you?" Inquiringly she looked up at the quite attractive tall man.

Toby didn't say a thing for he had clearly understood Catherine's last clumsily uttered word; policeman. He immediately suspected this beautiful young lady to be a police officer as well and he Toby, he was no fan of the fuzz.

Eve was somewhat surprised by the man's strange behavior but felt there where things more urgent right now.

"Sheila and Ed still haven't come up. You're absolutely positive you saw them drive into the garage?" Eve asked with a hint of suspicion.

Unable to defend herself verbally Catherine nodded vigorously yes.

"Frankly I begin to worry" Eve sighed. "I don't know what your relation to the Chief is for he hasn't said much but I can see you're anxious too. As no one emerged from the garage he finally decided to go take a look for himself."

This revelation got Catherine into a state. She seized Eve's wrist and pointed at her watch.

Eve understood."Um …, fifteen minutes. Maybe less."

Without bothering any further about Eve, Catherine beckoned Toby to follow her and she hurried towards the elevators. Followed in her footsteps by her, for one day, private bodyguard Toby and a few feet behind, a perplexed Eve sought to catch up with them.

* * *

Thinking he was alone and safe Charley kneeled down next to Sheila and gently caressed her face before letting his hand slide down and follow the curves of her perfectly shaped figure.

She was still in a haze and didn't fully realize what was going on.

"Danny!" Sheila softly murmured. "No Danny …, no …, don't." with her hands trying to get the other one's hands off her.

"Don't you love this? I'm sure you do. Quiet now honey. Let me show you what a real man is like." Charley whispered while sensually kissing her in the neck.

"No, no …, get off me Danny!" She vigorously pushed the man away while at the same time opening her eyes. There she saw him. Thrown out of balance sitting next to her on his bum.

Sheila was stunned. It was Charley. Not Danny.

She started looking all over for Danny and called out his name.

"I'm here Sheila." She stretched but couldn't see him. "Runnn if you can, get oouuutttt" Danny encouraged her.

She looked at Charley who had gotten to his feet and stood above her. His eyes now were cold and menacing. Gone was the tenderness she thought to have perceived when she first opened her eyes.

"Oh just shut up you!" he shouted at Danny. He began opening his belt and slowly removed it from his pants. A sick grimace told Sheila she was about to become his next victim unless a miracle happened.

She just couldn't move. She was frozen with terror. It probably wouldn't help but she relied on the old trick.

Looking behind Charley she suddenly shouted "No, no..., Danny …, don't!" while with a hand gesture putting him off.

Charley jolted his head around. "Ahaa …, nice try," he laughed. " You almost had me fooled. Too bad it won't do you any good."

Suddenly it struck Sheila odd that the garage lay surprisingly calm. There had to be other people down there. People coming to pick up their car, or park their car. Why hadn't she thought about that. A sparkle of hope that instantly died down as not a single sound could be perceived.

"I'll scream if you come any nearer. Stay where you are." She finally scrambled to her feet and nervously started peering around and past Charley.

"Go on! Scream! Yell! Oh yes …, do me that favor. Come on girl …, screeaaaam!" Charley encouraged her while he closed in on her. Sheila stepped backwards until she was imprisoned between his brawny body and the wall. She was trapped and saw no way to escape.

There was someone out there. She knew it for sure. That sound …, she couldn't figure out what it was but it was now or never so …, "Someone hellppppp meeeeee !" she resumed yelling. " Don't you touch me …, you…, you animal," she shouted at Charley as she started tapping forcefully on his chest, "No, no …, get off me!"

The more she fought to free herself, the more Charley laughed. He was enjoying it, convinced they were the only people down there except for Danny and that other guy whom Danny earlier had knocked over the head. Charley passed by at the precise moment that man regained consciousness. He didn't need anyone around so he had had no choice but to knock him out again. Except that the way he Charley did it he could rely on it that the man would be out for quite a while and be no nuisance to him.

"_THE LADY SAID NO!"_ it thundered through the air.

Charley froze, not knowing what he heard and Sheila thought, thank God. Both slowly turned their head to see who was there.

"Can't you take a no for an answer?" Ironside insisted as he wheeled out of the dark.

"Well I'll be damned!" Charley cursed, "You again!" He stepped away from Sheila to face Ironside.

"It's impossible. It can't be. I made sure none could access this floor." Menacing he advanced towards the Chief.

"Well …, it looks like you've overlooked something." Ironside said calmly.

"How did you get here?" Charley insisted heavily. "You wheel through walls with that thing?"

"I took the elevator. You know … that thing that takes people up and down,"the Chief mocked.

"Have fun while you can, smart ass. Go on …, be my guest. And while you're at it why don't you stand up as well."

Ironside ignored Charley's provocation and turned to Sheila."You're alright miss?

If Sheila had at first been relieved that someone had shown up she doubted this man would be able to prevent the inevitable. And who was he? He sure had guts but she couldn't imagine him defending her. Charley was a young athletic man and this fellow used a wheelchair. She feared that in the end it would be hopeless all by all.

"Yes …, I …, uh …, I'm alright." She smiled bleakly and tried to walk over to the Chief.

"You stay where you are!" Charley ordered.

She looked at Ironside. With a friendly, reassuring nodding he beckoned her to obey.

"Why don't you let this young lady walk away from here? There's been enough harm done don't you think?"

"Who the f…. do you think you are? Has no one ever told you to mind your own business. And no one leaves this place unless I say so." Charley took out his gun and brandished it

"Now what is that good for? We don't want anyone to get hurt do we Officer? So how about putting that gun away?" Ironside suggested calmly.

Charley hesitated for a moment. Come on man what are you afraid of, a woman and a cripple, he said to himself. Let's be reasonable; they're harmless. He was about to put the gun away then hesitated for a moment and stepped closer to face Ironside.

"And what exactly do you mean with there's been enough harm done?" He poked his gun in the Chief's shoulder.

Ironside being an excellent judge of character knew immediately this man was weak. He was nothing but a braggart. A little provocation would largely suffice to get Charley to talk. In fact that's probably what he wanted most. Convinced his victims didn't stand a chance to escape, he could tell them, boost about what he did.

The Chief realized it was risky. Charley was in a position of force. He had a gun and he had good legs.

Danny listened attentively to what was going on behind the cars that hid his view of Sheila and Charley. That newcomer, he knew that voice. And the way Charley addressed the man, the mockery.

Good God! It can't be. Danny was all ears. Oh yes; it's him, definitely. Cathy's friend, the customer from room _512. _If he got down here, Danny reasoned, there might be other people around as well and so he didn't hesitate for a moment.

"I'm over here! It's me Danny, the desk clerk! Beware of that Officer! He's a killer!" he shouted at the top of his voice.

"Shut up! I said" Charley snarled without taking his eyes of the Chief.

Looking back hard at Charley, Ironside stated calmly "Why don't I hear you denying this serious accusation, Officer? Could it possibly mean it is true?"

"Yes it is true!" Danny insisted, ignoring Charley's order to keep quiet. " He was the one who killed Betty!" he shouted again.

"OK, you've asked for it!" Charley turned around and went over to where he'd left Danny cuffed with both hands to the door handle. He punched him hard and then used the belt that was still hanging around his shoulders to gag him. Charley chuckled and couldn't resist to induce some extra pain to his helpless victim. He gave a hard kick into Danny's side, "That'll teach you, piece of shit," he spat on him.

Sheila meanwhile had quickly taken her place next to Ironside and she grabbed his arm as she heard Charley kick the poor lad. Danny's moaning cut through her as a knife, and lead her to believe there was no escaping this madman.

"He's going to kill us. He has gone mad," Sheila lamented, "That's not how it was supposed to happen. Damn you Cathy! Why did I listen to you and where are you and where are those other people supposed to protect me?"

The Chief gently padded her hand, "I'm here. Trust me, no one is going to be killed. We'll find a way out. I promise you."

She looked at him with disbelief. How could this man remain so calm? And how on earth could he protect her? Yet he had something about him. His self assured composure, despite a clearly severe handicap, gave a boost to her failing fighter instinct.

"Yes, yes …, you're right," she said with a new resolve, "We'll get out of here. We will."

Meanwhile Charley had returned and faced Ironside and Sheila with a large grin on his face.

"I knew you were trouble. But down here there's no one who will come to the rescue. And where's is the other now, huh …, the Negro? Your boy."

"His name is Mark and he's _not _my boy. He's my friend."

"Sure, sure. Friend or boy what's the difference? None, huh! As long as he obediently pushes you around."

Charley was sorely disappointed. Ironside just continued to look at him without batting an eyelid. The Chief felt this strategy was working. If Charley realized that he could get no grip on him he would probably try to scare him by telling what he was capable of.

Tiny drops of sweat began to appear on Charley's forehead. Nothing worked out as planned and this …, damned cripple, was so intimidating he, Charley, just couldn't think straight.

"Now look here, hot shot! If you think you play it smart, just forget it. You already seem to know more than I can afford so..."

"Yes I do," Ironside intervened, "so why don't you tell it all while we're at it? What's the risk in it for you? Like you let us understand you have the gun, a prisoner over there and I …, well let's say I'm the lame duck. Tell me …, how did you manage not to get caught. That puzzles me."

Charley stared at him. "You know man, the way you talk, the way you sound …, you would make a great cop. Of course …, there's that little inconvenience that makes it simply inconceivable," he taunted, designating the wheelchair.

"Now …, to answer your question" Charley pursued self assured, "I can only say this: it all comes down to being first on the scene, mess it up a little, involuntarily of course and …, that's that. Good riddance." A broad smile underlined his self contentment. He was radiant as he stared at his victims to be.

"And that's exactly what is gone happen here. I'll be the first to discover horrified the bloody mess. Three bodies, death by gunshot." He shook his head as in disgust, " A real pity if you ask me." and he burst in laughter.

The Chief and Sheila looked at each other. Sheila had turned white as a sheet.

"I never thought it would be so easy to get you to confess to the murders," Ironside said dead calm.

"Murders! Oh no man. I didn't kill anyone. It were..., accidents. Yeah …, regrettable accidents." One could easily feel the joy he still derived from it. This sure was one sick bastard.

"Like I said it all comes down to …, timing and then later at the scene showing who's in charge."

Charley was overflowing with confidence. Ironside's felt it was revelation time. They were only seconds away from a complete confession.

"It was their own fault. They asked for it. Goddamn prostitutes" Charley now began pacing up and down.

"No one deserves to die like Dorothy."

"Dorothy!" He stepped closer to Ironside and waved his gun in front of the Chief's face. Where did you get that name?" Charley's eyes spit fire. "The papers never mentioned her name. Who told you?"

"Does it matter?" Ironside answered and pursued to keep up the pressure. "All she did, as did the others, was accompany someone to a restaurant. Hardly something worthy to brand these girls as prostitutes."

Charley didn't believe what he heard. This guy seemed to know everything. Who the f... was he? He no longer held in place and started walking in a circle, swearing and cursing. Finally he again stepped over to Ironside, violently grabbed the chairs armrests and bent over. Both men now looked into each others eyes without blinking.

"You really believe they didn't have something else in mind? What planet are you from? Them females would do _anything_ for money. They're all the same. They ..." he clenched his fist. "Bitches, all bitches"

Charley let go of the chair, smiled sickly and chortled. He seemed to be talking to himself, "Aah, dear Pete wanted me to keep an eye on them. Sure I said. You can trust me. I'll stay around until they're back at the hotel. And so I did."

He sighed deeply. "I just wanted to have some fun with those dames. I'm good looking, young, a great body," he added, admiringly looking down on himself letting his left hand slide proudly over his chest. "What more do they want? First they let you believe they're willing and then …" he now snorted with rage.

The smile disappeared. His eyes narrowed and he roared, "I'm a man! A real man! Those goddamn bitches they just laughed and laughed at me. Mocking me. Ridiculing my uniform. I swear I could have killed them barehanded but …," his smiled reappeared, " haha …, a little intimidation sufficed. In the end they themselves were responsible for their final destiny."

Visibly still intensely enjoying the satisfaction he had felt after each girls' death he paused again and looked at the Chief who remained utterly unmoved. This attitude puzzled Charley and he thought it good to continu his horror story.

"There was no escaping me on that roof. Dorothy, I hadn't even touched her yet. Well …, she ran to and fro like game and finally tripped over something that send her over the edge. I didn't bother to look. I simply hurried down the stairs and was of course the first officer to arrive on the scene. No one questioned where I came from. Everyone's used to seeing me on daily basis in this building. I couldn't think of a better alibi. Piece of cake."

Charley turned his back on the Chief and started playing with his gun, spinning its cylinder.

Sheila had managed to retreat unnoticed and listened horrified. Charley was in such a state he had seemingly forgotten about her. She could have fled but she felt she owed the man who was now confronting Charley and so she stayed, determined to help him in any possible way. Sheila stepped closer and softly laid her hand upon Ironside's shoulder. "What now?" she whispered.

* * *

Catherine, Toby and Eve had hurried to the elevators and had discovered at their great surprise that it automatically stopped at minus one.

"Try again" Eve insisted, "It can't be. If the Chief has managed to get down there, we too should be able. You probably pushed the wrong button." Catherine frenetically kept on pushing the minus two button. Nothing happened. "Here …, let me try it." Eve stepped in front of Toby and pushed Catherine aside.

"It will never work even if you keep on hammering the button," Toby said calmly looking almost apologetically at the two women. Eve was surprised by the warm timbre of his voice. "Let's move back to the lobby."

"No! We absolutely have to get down there" Eve insisted

"Alright. If it's really that urgent then I know how to get down there."

Catherine, being unable to speak, didn't hold still. At these words her face brightened . Thankful she looked at Toby.

"Yes it is urgent." Eve answered, "Please take us there. Peoples lives might depend on it."

Without further hesitation Toby used his special key and took them to the highest floor, to where Bertini had his quarters. He noticed the surprised look on the faces of his female company.

"Oh don't worry. We'll go down from here. They crossed the landing and followed Toby through a door that led to another one. Each one had to be unlocked. "It's a secret get away. Only a handful of people know about it. Even I can't remember when it was last used." and he added with a wink, "Which proves that Mr. Bertini is a respectable man. He doesn't need to hide or sneak out unseen."

Toby knew that under normal circumstances this statement would have aroused some reaction but not this time. It was obvious that these two women were to much preoccupied about the well being of whoever it was they so desperately wanted to join at minus two.

Once Toby had opened the second door a small staircase revealed to them. He switched on the light. All three, Catherine ahead, hurried down the steep narrow stairs. Twelve floors separated them from their friends. It was a dizzying descend and once they had reached minus two they were simply gasping for air.

Toby had to use some force to open the sticking door. "Hold it Cathy!" With his impressive body he barred her the way as she was about to rush out. "Let's not be foolish. If there is danger out there it is not the time nor up to you ladies to run towards it head over heels."

"He's right Catherine, we should progress prudently."

"Sssss." Toby pricked up his ears. "I think I hear something." Eve and Catherine followed his example

"That way." Eve pointed to the left.

Catherine nodded affirmatively and so did Toby.

"You ladies! Stay behind!" Toby ordered. " And ...," with his finger on his lips instructed them not to make a sound.

Although Eve as officer should have taken the initiative she let Toby run it. It sure was not within her nature to do so but she knew she had absolutely no authority in Nevada and well …, it somehow reassured her, Ed not being around, to have this man at their side. Eve took a tense Catherine by the arm, "Let's stay positive. I'm sure he's alright. The Chief is very resourceful," she added reassuringly. Then shut up as Toby turned around and threw them a not to be misunderstood look.

With Toby in front they progressed silently towards where the voices seemed to come from.

* * *

"So much for our theory about some kind of revenge," Ironside thought while he watched Charley who by now had completely gotten around the bend.

The scene was impressive and the Chief felt Sheila's grip on his shoulder tighten. Without looking at her he padded her hand reassuringly.

Ironside had heard enough. This man was indeed an unimaginable lunatic. It was high time someone stopped him, brought him back to reality. Or at least tried to. The Chief had come to the conclusion that there was probably only one way to achieve that. If Charley might eventually get away with the murder of Sheila and Danny, killing a cop was a quite different thing. Time had come for him to decline his identity even if it offered no guarantee it would bring Charley to reason.

"Officer! Don't you think it is time to stop playing?"

The tone was ice cold. Slowly Charley turned around again while he kept on spinning the cylinder of his 6" Smith & Wesson. 357 Magnum. He was convinced this would do it to finally frighten that man sitting there in front of him.

As he looked into Ironside's eyes Charley had a chill ran down his spine and he stopped playing with his gun.

"No one will ever believe anyone of us had a gun like that in his pocket."

"Of course not, wise guy. But …, this will do." Charley drew up a trouser leg and produced a .38 special, hidden in his sock.

"Who shall I kill first? Maybe the young lad over there. No …, too easy. How about the Misses? Say something big man! I want to see fear in those eyes of yours. Or are they numb like your legs?"

"If you kill me it's death row for you." Ironside replied imperturbably.

Puzzled Charley looked down at him. Then started to laugh heartily but choked when Ironside continued.

"I admit that you could eventually get away with the murder of these two young people, but …, not with mine. You kill me and you'll have every goddamn police-force in the United States hunting you down, Mr. officer. And this is not a promise but a fact."

Charley didn't know what he heard as did Sheila whose admiration for this courageous stranger grew stronger with the second. Who the hell are you, she wondered.

For a moment Charley was speechless but then pulled himself together.

"They won't find my prints on the gun. There will be yours," he pointed at the Chief, "and those of the lad." Charley pauzed a second and then went on. " You killed the girl for …, she was resisting your …, let's say …, advances. The boy came upon it and managed to snatch the gun from your hand and in rage put a few bullets into you. Shattered by grief he finally commits suicide." Charley snapped his fingers. "Yeaaah ! That's it. Great scenario. What do you think? Who'll be asking questions …., huh?"

"Everyone! No one will ever believe that Robert Ironside killed this lady."

Charley stepped back as if he had seen the devil. "Ironside you say? _The _cripple cop …, from …?" and went on mumbling, "The conference …, of course. Damn, how could I forget that!"

While the Chief confirmed, "Yes! Robert T. Ironside! San Francisco police. You want to see my badge Officer?"

"I should have known. Damn it! I knew there was something wrong somewhere. The way you talk. That coolheadedness. I should have known. What a fool I am. Oh man! Why didn't I …" Charley went berserk. He repeatedly tapped his head with the hand that was holding the gun.

"Why don't you let me have the gun?" Ironside slowly started moving his chair towards Charley. "It's not too late to limit the damages."

"Stay where you are!" Charley shouted pointing the gun directly at the Chief. "They won't put me in jail. I won't let you."

"Be reasonable. Give me the gun and I promise you'll have a fair trial. With a good psychiatrist you might even get off lightly." Ironside counseled while he carefully continued progressing towards Charley.

At that moment Charley noticed Sheila looking at something or someone behind him.

"Oh no, Sheila. Don't pull that trick on me again. You won't fool me this time." He aimed at her, ready to shoot. "You're first honey."

"Nooooooooo!" she cried, stretching her arms in protection in front of her.

"Hey you!" Someone tapped Charley on the shoulder.

Totally surprised Charley turned around with a jolt and looked straight into the dark eyes of a guy his height. Before he realized it a forceful precise uppercut threw him off his feet and made him land unconscious in front of the Chief's wheelchair. The gun flew through the air and was picked up by … Ed who at that precise moment came stumbling onto the scene.

Ironside sighed relieved and leaned back in his chair. He turned towards Sheila. "You're alright miss? It's over. He won't harm anybody anymore."

"Thank you so much" she said taking his hand. " I don't know what he would have done if you hadn't arrived. I really believed this was the end."

"Well …, what kept all of you?" Ironside thundered as Eve and Catherine also stepped forward, out of the dark.

"You're alright Chief? You got us so worried. We just couldn't get down here. Everything was locked. Even the elevator didn't functi ..."

Ironside wasn't already listening anymore and wheeled towards his sergeant who had again sank onto his knees and was holding the back of his head. His eyes half closed and the grimace on his face were revealing. Ed was hurting bad something Ironside hadn't failed to notice as soon as his sergeant had shown up.

"Hold on Ed! We'll get you to the hospital as soon as we manage to get out of here."

"Chief! It was me who …, who was supposed to look after this lady and not you." Ed tried to joke.

"You'll complain about that later. First thing is to have a doctor take a good look at your head. You've been knocked down twice tonight."

"Twice?" Ed looked at the Chief with disbelief and got a positive nod as answer.

"Where are those goddamn handcuffs?" Toby growled as he couldn't find them on Charley. "All I found are the keys."

"Mmmuummmpppssssssss !"

"What's that moaning? Is there someone else?" Eve asked, looking around, searching.

"Jesus!" Sheila called out, "Danny!"

She snatched the keys from Toby's hand and hurried over to where Charley had left Danny, badly beaten up. First she removed the belt Charley had used as a gag and then got the cuffs off. "Sorry Danny." she tenderly kissed him on the cheek.

Hearing Danny's name being mentioned Catherine had followed Sheila. She was shocked by what she saw. His face was swollen and blood was dripping from his mouth as the brutally tightened large belt had cut deep into his lips. She knelt down and like a mother gently started wiping the traces of blood.

There was so much she wanted to say to him but she was still mute.

"He'll need a doctor too." Sheila told the Chief while she handed Toby the handcuffs. He immediately used them to restrain Charley.

"I haven't thanked you yet. Mister ...?" Ironside extended his hand. "You just saved our lives."

Toby looked at it reluctantly and then shook it firmly. "My name is of no importance. You sure have guts …, for a copper," he stated flatly while his eyes told a different story. "But please do not tell my boss I shook hands with a cop or I'll be out of work."

"A cop yes, but …, one of a kind for that matter." Ironside said with a wink.

"Now. Can we get out of this place. We need this guy to be booked and we have two casualties who urgently need to be taken to the hospital.

"Make that three Chief. Catherine should go along to have her throat checked." Eve added.

"Nno, nnnno." was the only feeble sound Cathy managed to produce.

"Oh yes! You're going too." Ironside stated. "And that's an order." He then turned to Sheila and suggested she too should go with them. "As a precaution. After all he tried to assault you."

"I'm fine. I assure you. I'd rather stay here with you and give my account to the police as well."

"Alright then." Ironside put his hand on her arm. "If you feel up to it it's OK with me."

"I'll go up now," Toby proposed, "I'll see to it that the elevator works properly again."

"And get the cops down here," Ironside called out after him, "and a medic!"

"Anyway I'm not moving until this gentleman has been arrested and charged." he said to the others around.

"I'll stay with you this time." Eve said firmly decided.

"I don't think so Eve."

"What do you mean?"

"Somebody needs to go up to the roof to tell Mark he's been freezing up there for nothing. Sorry Eve but you're the only one left who's fully operational. Your friend said he'd have the elevator function again. So nothing is keeping you down here. Now..., up you go! Up! Up!" he said, demonstratively waving her away.

From then on things went rapidly. A team of the Las Vegas police arrived hardly fifteen minutes after Toby had made the call from Mr. Bertini's office. When the name Ironside had been mentioned the officer who had taken the call had immediately informed his superior.

Chief Warren had joined his men at the hotel and listened abashed to a brief account of what had occurred that night down there in the garage. It was obvious none of them could believe what they heard. Chief Warren told Ironside that many times Charley had been depicted as the example to follow, especially to the young recruits. There was no way they could imagine Charley Meaks being capable of those horrors.

It was already way after midnight and Chief Ironside had suggested they postpone any further inquiry and interrogation until the morning. Especially since some of the prime witnesses and also victims had been taken to the hospital.

Chief Warren had acquiesced immediately and it was agreed on that Ironside would come down to the police station by 10 am.

Not without resistance and verbal protest had Charley finally been led away. Everyone was gone except for the Chief and Sheila and Eve who, having _rescued _Mark from the roof had then returned to the basement.

Eve had suggested Sheila stay with her for the night. After a moment of hesitation she had accepted saying she dreaded being alone that night.

Ironside too returned to his room and found Mark shivering and wrapped in blankets. He talked his friend into taking a long hot bad without delay. He then phoned downstairs and ordered a bottle of whiskey.

Within minutes the liquor was delivered to room _512_. The Chief poured out two extra large portions and brought one to Mark.

Weary he returned to the bedroom and wheeled slowly towards the large window. Everything seemed unbelievably peaceful. He took the glass he had stuck in between the armrest and his left leg. He looked at it, making the liquid go round and round and then swallowed it in one gulp.

* * *

_This about wraps it up. I still owe you an epilogue._ _It'll be online very, very shortly_. _I've enjoyed every second spent imagining and writing this story and molding the characters. I apologize for the time it took me to finish the job but ..._

_And last but not least a heartfelt thank you to my beta Carol for believing in me and stimulating me after not having heard from me for a while._


	20. epilogue

_Epilogue._

After a thorough medical examination Ed had finally been able to regain his hotel room late that night. Even after having slept for only a few hours he seemed to have well recuperated.

Initially Ironside and his team were supposed to head back to San Francisco in the morning. Unfortunately there was still some unfinished business that had to be taken care of so they had no choice but to delay their departure. Therefore the Chief decided Eve should return alone. "We do not want to give the Commissioner a reason to reproach me my office isn't staffed and fully operational." With these words he had send Eve on her way to the Las Vegas airport and he promised they would be back in San Francisco by late afternoon.

A few minutes before ten o'clock Ed, Mark and the Chief had walked into the headquarters of the Las Vegas police.

Only moments later they were joined in Chief Warren's office by Catherine and Sheila.

Danny hadn't been allowed to leave the hospital. Following Charley's brutal beating and kicking he was diagnosed with a nearly ruptured spleen and severely bruised ribs. The doctors found it wiser to keep him in observation for at least the next forty-eight hours.

Initially the testimony of Sheila and Ironside was supposed to be crucial. Yet to their surprise someone had preceded them. Earlier that morning Toby had already dropped by to make a statement. Having given Mr. Bertini, his boss, a detailed account of everything that had occurred since he had been ordered to tail Catherine, he got the advise to go make a voluntary statement. Just to avoid having the police snoop around to much, Mr. Bertini had heavily insisted on.

If Charley' s colleagues were at first suspicious as to everything Toby had told them their disbelief was totally swept away by what officer Charley Meaks himself had in the meantime and to everyone's stupefaction admitted. He had confessed to be _indirectly _responsible for the death of no less than six young women over the past five years.

The Chief's and Sheila's story was finally nothing more than the ultimate confirmation of what Charley's deranged mind was capable of.

Once installed in the interrogation room Charley had surprised everyone with his cold, emotionless confession. It rapidly became clear that Charley proved to be unequaled when it came down to psychological intimidation especially when he had in front of him a weak person.

He procured the men interrogating him some cold shivers as he declared,"I didn't leave out any detail when I described to each girl what I had in mind for her. They got so frightened that in their desperate flight to escape me they always encountered death at the end of the road." His eyes had expressed an intense pleasure while he, almost enthusiastically unveiled his modus operandi to the inquisitors "But I never brutalized them physically," he had added laughing, " I just scared the hell out of them," As if he tried to minimize the gravity of his act.

Charley finally divulged how each time he had made sure he was first to arrive on the scene where he so to speak discovered the corpse. Accordingly to what he had previously also told the Chief in the garage he admitted that he had always simply messed up whatever little evidence there was or could have been pointing in his direction.

He proudly told the police inspectors how he had found out that in doing so he could easily hamper what should normally have been a routine investigation. And knowing he was highly estimated within the force, he had never had any difficulty in persuading everyone these girls weren't worth a meticulous, costly investigation. Charley simply portrayed them as the kind of fortune seeking adventurous girls no one would ever miss and he got away with it. So after a short standard routine inquiry the cases were dropped and classified.

However surprisingly enough Charley had categorically denied every responsibility in the death of Betty. She was that girl found in an alley five years ago, brutally massacred with a knife. She was the one who's death Danny so obstinately pinned on Charley.

Danny was right about at least one thing. Meaks was not Charley's name but his mother's maiden name. He was a Gandolfi and he knew by experience that people always automatically tended to link him to the infamous Gandolfi clan. So when he entered the Las Vegas force he chose to use his mother's name.

All the rest Danny apparently got from hear-say as it all proved to be incorrect.

It was way over six pm when Eve finally heard the elevator come up.

"Finally! There you are!" Eve sighed relieved although surprised to see the Chief enter the office all alone.

"From the tone of your voice I suspect the Commissioner is all impatience." Ironside said as he eased his chair down the ramp.

"Commissioner Randall has phoned at least four times in the last couple of hours. And you better be warned …, he didn't sound very happy."

"Meaning it won't be long now before he shows up." the Chief remarked while he picked up a few letters on the table and started browsing them.

"How's Ed Chief? And …, where's Mark?" Eve kept on looking towards the entrance; awaiting.

"Ed is as fine as can be expected. He'll suffer some headache for a few days. And Mark is bringing up the luggage. They should be here any second."

"Tell me Chief. How did it go? I guess the officer gave everyone a hard time, denying the accusations."

"No, Eve. In fact they didn't need our presence as it turned out that the man himself had already admitted everything and they also had the testimony of our nameless savior, alias Catherine's, for one day, bodyguard."

"Speaking about Catherine. You can tell ..."

Eve was interrupted as the office door swung open and they heard Ed's jovial invitation, "After you Commissioner."

"Ed! Mark!" Randall greeted them and then with a swift pace walked straight to the table where Ironside sat. The Chief slowly turned his chair away from the table to greet the Commissioner.

"You look great Bob. Well rested. Amazing what a few days off can accomplish." The Commissioner looked the Chief in the eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean Dennis? Do I hear some kind of reproach?"

"Oh don't act so surprised. You know very well what I'm talking about." Randall snorted.

Ed, Eve and Mark threw each other a meaningful look.

"I'm profoundly disappointed in you Bob. Your trip cost money to this department, and was supposed to be a learning school. Remember! To get acquainted with new technologies and research techniques to track down the criminals more effectively and at lesser expense. Those where your words Bob. Correct me if I'm wrong."

The Commissioner was turning red. "I got superintendent Bishop, co -organizer of the conference on the line. He said you gratified them with a glimpse of you on the first day. Someone on the organizing staff then saw you flee like thief's at coffee break. And that was it. Good God Bob …, where were you? What were you doing?"

Ironside sat back in his chair attentively listening. He didn't say a word.

Randall was expecting a virulent reaction. "Well? I do not hear you refute it. Not even a little grumbling."

"Now Dennis, aren't you exaggerating a little?" Ironside said meaningfully holding up his thumb and index finger.

"I'm afraid I don't appreciate your humor. You've already accustomed me to numerous excesses in the past but I really would like to hear what you have to say for your defense this time."

"Defense! My defense is that a very dangerous criminal now is behind bars. Is that reason enough for you to excuse me for not having attended your precious conference?"

"But …, but ..." Randall stuttered, " you had no authority over there."

"That's right. But no one can blame me for clinging to life. And if on top of that it allowed to elucidate a series of unsolved murders who do you think will hold that against me? "

"Your life was threatened?" Startled, Randall looked at the Chief.

"Mine and that of two other young people. It …, it was a close call Dennis." Ironside punctuated with appropriate drama.

Randall's attitude changed within the second. "You didn't get hurt did you?" Inquiringly he looked the Chief up and down. "Oh now I get it. That's why you couldn't be back here as scheduled. You needed some medical attendance. Tell me Bob. You're sure everything is alright." Randall's concern was touching.

A twinkle appeared in Ironside's eyes as he listened to Dennis. Sure he loved to tease his friend but the genuine solicitude of the Commissioner didn't leave him indifferent either even if he would never admit it.

"Hold it Dennis. Hold it. I'm perfectly alright. But Ed had to go the hospital. He got brutally knocked over the head."

"Twice." Ed added emphasizing it by rubbing his hand over the sore back of his head.

Perplexed the Commissioner looked at Ironside and then at Ed and back at the Chief. Realizing he had let himself being carried away maybe a little to easily Randall adjusted his glasses and shook his head in unbelief. "You're absolutely incorrigible Bob. And how come I have not been informed about all this."

"That's pretty simple to explain if you ask me"

"Simple! What are you getting at? One of your tricks again I presume."

"I wouldn't dare." Ironside replied as if offended by this assumption. "But this one Dennis I'm sure you've heard it before... that uh …, very famous saying." The Chief paused and looked at his friends who looked back at him trying hard not to smile. They were on the same wavelength and knew the Commissioner had it coming.

"Oh..., for heaven's sake Bob, out with it!"

Ironside nonchalantly again picked up some papers and seemingly started studying them. After a few seconds he lowered the documents, looked up at a dumbfounded Commissioner still awaiting an answer, and stated flatly, "Dennis …, haven't you ever heard? What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. That should ring a bell."

The Chief then turned to Eve and said with a smile, "And Eve …, this goes for you too regarding Catherine."

**The end.**

_So far for this story that I hope has pleased some. A sincere thank you to those who left a comment. It's always encouraging and a real boost to continue. And Carol, my very dear beta ... __you're not yet finished with me __;-)__ There's more to come ...**  
**_


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